


Severed Bonds

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Implied Insanity, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Touching, Past Prostitution, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Sex, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Trauma, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Unhealthy Relationships, not exactly a happy ending, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-03-02 21:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18819550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Star Wars AU:Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the Star Wars Universe, Order 66 was a direct command for the Clone Troopers to kill their Jedi leaders. In the movies, this happened in the Revenge of the Sith, and it nearly wiped out all the Jedi in existence. 
> 
> This story is set directly after that. So...yeah, it gets a little dark. 
> 
> Ah, but Star Wars was one of my very first fandoms and imagining Rus as a Sith Lord and Edge as a Jedi Knight was too much to resist. Particularly when you have Cheapbourbon's gorgeous art to thank for planting the idea in my head. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Check it out here!](https://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/184835524714/cheapbourbon-always-two-there-are)
> 
>  
> 
> I've taken liberties with both the Star Wars and the Undertale universes, of course. Played fast and loose with canon. It's more fun that way. 
> 
> As a warning, this isn't my normal fluffiness and I can't exactly call it a happy ending. None of the character deaths references are either of our boys.

* * *

Consciousness came slowly, painfully so. Edge barely opened his sockets, enough to glance around the room he was in.

It was an unfamiliar medical bay and there was no one in sight. He sat up, stifling a groan at the ache in his skull. A medical droid powered up and left its charging station to come to him, metal hands urging him to lay back.

Its mechanical voice said with bland urgency, “Sir, you should lay down.”

He pushed the droid roughly aside and staggered to his feet. It moved back, out of his way, watching in silence, but if it was alerting a captor, it was too late to stop it.

All his clothing was clean and folded on a tray at the end of the bed. By time he pulled on his outer robe, Edge had found his balance, suppressing his headache with practiced ease, and no one came to investigate his waking.

His lightsaber was also on the tray and Edge took it automatically, clipping it to his belt. 

Memory of what happened was fragmented; the suppressed pain did not eliminate the injury. His team traveling to seek out the Sith, that much he recalled, and there had been…an attack? An ambush? He needed answers before he chose his path.

He sank to his knees with the fluid grace despite his injuries, closing his sockets and reaching out with the Force. What he felt made him gasp, an unexpectedly wrenching cry of pain from within the universe itself and he hastily blocked it, kept his touch light, close. Memory came, as shocking as the pain flowing through the Force, and Edge opened his sockets.

There was only one other living presence on this ship and it was one he knew, all too well. 

The ship was small and the walk to the cockpit was a short one. The other was sitting in the pilot’s seat, but the star field told Edge they were in hyperspace. His hands on the controls meant nothing. Familiar hands, long fingers of bone. 

It was the first time in years he'd seen Rus anywhere except from the other side of a battlefield. 

The lightsaber at his side was not a design that Edge knew, but he knew the color of its crystal. Red, as blazing crimson red as his own eye lights, though the meaning behind it was not one of a chance of birth. It was a choice. 

Once his lightsaber had been green, complimenting the blue of Edge’s. They’d made them together, the one Edge still possessed and the one that Rus abandoned all those years ago.

Rus did not reach for his lightsaber, did not so much as look at him, even when he spoke.

"Where are the others?" Edge marveled at his own calm. He was a Jedi Knight and yet even he had his limits. The memory of the troopers who were supposed to be their allies turning on them, their blasters firing, of his fellow Knights falling beneath that deadly rain was fresh in his mind. 

"they're gone," Rus said curtly. “all of them.” His voice was unchanged, even after all this time. Except for the underlying note of gentle humor that it had always held. His endless laughter was gone.

As gone as the other Jedi. "That's not possible." 

But the Force told him otherwise; it cried to him, a universe worth of mourning and there was nothing but gaping emptiness at the other end of every bond. His team, Jedi he'd known and trusted for years were gone. Friends, teachers, students. Every mental path led to ragged emptiness. Where once the collective consciousness of the Jedi was a galaxy, now there was only the rare twinkle of a dying star.

It was no wonder he was so calm, he was probably going into shock

It was only his years of training that allowed him to keep his control. "You did this. This is because of you. You turned against us, turned to the Dark side."

Rus did not deny it but even as he said it, Edge could feel that it wasn't entirely true. He’d watched in quiet despair the depths that Rus sank to since his turning, watched as he killed when he should have been fighting at their side and yet. Rus had betrayed them, true, but this genocide was beyond even what he’d shown himself capable of. 

They’d begun in the same crèche, he and Rus. Trained together as children, worked together as Padawans. They were knighted together, well on their way to being permanently teamed. Until with one desperate, reckless kiss, Rus destroyed it all. 

On a mission with only the two of them, negotiations failed and turned violent. They’d only barely survived and ended up in the hold of a rickety transport they’d managed to barter passage on, huddled together against the cold. They were exhausted beyond reckoning and too tired to sleep. Edge trying to meditate, to reconcile what they’d gone through coming so close to dying, when there was a whisper in that darkness, his name.

“edge—“

Rus’s mouth had been hot, desperate against his own, pleading wordlessly, and Edge pushed him away.

He could still remember the look on Rus’s face, the raw emotion that no true Jedi would show.

It all collapsed so quickly after that, like a child’s balancing game destroyed by an ill wind. 

And now they were here and the emptiness in his mind was as raw, as anguished, as Rus had been that day.

"Where are you taking me?" Edge asked, finally.

"i don't know. far away." Rus made a ragged sound, a mockery of his past laughter. "my Master has been calling to me, demanding my return. we need to get as far away as we can."

It would never be far enough. Through the Force all things were possible. Even darkness. 

Edge sank into the co-pilot seat, staring at the starfield speeding outside. "You could have let me die."

Again there was that laughter and Rus shook his head. "i couldn't. i never could. not you, never you. it was always you, always, you were my downfall to begin with!" His anger trailed away into a low, broken chuckle, even now finding humor. “i gave up everything for you.”

"You gave up everything for yourself," Edge told him coolly. That was the truth of it, that was the Master’s teachings. The Jedi used their power for the benefit of all. To want for yourself was the path of the Sith and the proof of it was sitting before him. "I am not a possession for you to own."

"i didn't want to own you, i wanted--" Rus let out a low, shuddery breath. "it doesn't matter anymore. probably never did.”

"You left my lightsaber."

His laughter was bordering on hysteria now and Edge wondered if Rus was completely sane. Wondered the same thing about himself, if his preternatural calm was closer to a loss of self. 

"i did,” Rus giggled, rocking in his seat. “i did. i wasn't entirely sure we'd be able to escape, and i didn't want to leave you helpless if we were boarded. me, they would probably spare, my master prefers to mete out his punishments himself, but you? you would only be another dead Jedi."

His control was slipping, cracking, Edge noted distantly, wondering again at his own sanity. "They are truly gone, all of them."

"most of them, yes. i expect a few have managed to escape. like you."

"Even the younglings, the little ones."

"yes." Rus swallowed hard, that maddening humor slipping away. “i didn't know. i wouldn't have--when the order came..." He shuddered with a thin rattle of bones, muffled beneath his dark robes. “this wasn’t the war i was meant to be fighting. the jedi are wrong, they expect us to cage our emotions and hide from the power that's possible, they are...were…"

"Rus--"

"they killed them all," Rus whispered. He never looked away from the hyperspace surrounding them, but his hands fell away from the controls, "i have blood on my hands, on my soul, i've never pretended otherwise, this was a war, but they...they shot them in the back. honor is a useless construct for those who choose death, but they killed children, they…that…"

“It was a war, this was what you wanted,” Edge said. The numbness in his soul was spreading, leaving him as empty as the Force. “And now you’re running away from it.”

“not you,” Rus said, softly, and he finally looked at Edge. There was nothing to mark his fall, nothing that named him Sith, save for the burning eye lights in his sockets. “that was too high a price.” 

“Higher than your own soul?”

“too high a price,” Rus repeated. He grinned and it was savage.

If Edge was emptiness, then Rus was an overfilled cup and his hatred spilled out to sear them all. 

His lightsaber was heavy at his hip. He could kill Rus right now, finally end this; the years of searching, of watching others being cut down beneath the glow of crimson. Edge didn't reach for it and wondered distantly if Rus had known he wouldn't or if he didn't care. “Asgore will find you.”

That smile turned bitter, a dead remnant of his former self. “he will, eventually, and my master will kill me. but then, it’s hardly the first time i’ve given up everything for you.”

Edge stood, striding out of the cockpit and away from what was left of his friend. And the Jedi.

* * *

In the weeks that passed, Rus mostly stayed away from him. It was a small ship, some interaction was unavoidable, but passing by each other in the common areas was more like walking past a ghost, a wraith who hardly looked at him.

Those fleeting glances told him that Rus was exhausted, darkened shadows sinking in beneath his sockets. The courses he plotted seemed nonsensical, likely trying to avoid Imperial forces. 

Edge paid it little mind. He spent his nights sleeping and his days meditating. Reaching out for others through the static of emptiness, feeling through the Force for survivors.

But no one came.

There was nothing but the pulse of the one already on the ship. Rus’s Force signature was nothing like his former exuberance, all his gentle light darkened with anger, with hate.

It still felt like him. Edge pushed it to the side, and reached out further, searching for others that never reached back.

* * *

Another week passed and they landed on Soonia to refuel. An outskirts planet, the sort where power was law and the Empire had no control. It was little more than a trading post, but there was an outdoor market, shouts from those hawking their wares ringing through the growing heat of the morning.

Edge walked through it, his robes concealed beneath a dark cloak. Small stalls lined the walkways, with questionable meats turning on spits as they displayed a colorful array of the local fruits, fish, stolen wares, and everything else beneath the double suns.

He had no credits, not a thing to barter with. He was, however, not without skill and it only took a few nudges, a couple waves of his hand to net some fresh supplies, better than the gruel that has been sustaining them.

The afternoon was getting unpleasantly warm by the time he carried them back to the ship and he was preparing an evening meal when Rus returned. Edge had no idea what Rus traded for fuel, but he was limping and there was a ghost of bruise on his cheek bone that made his soul clench. 

He stopped when he saw Edge.

“you came back,” Rus said, blankly. 

For the first time, it occurred to Edge that he could have left. Bartered for passage on one of the other ships and Rus expected him to do it. They would be hunting him, true, as they were hunting all Jedi, but he would be infinitely safer away from Rus, who was marked as a traitor to be executed by the Emperor himself. 

Distantly, he found himself saying, “Where else do I have to go?”

Edge turned his attention back to the fresh pala fruit he was slicing, sticky juice sluicing over his fingers. It would be delicious when it was warmed. 

Rus stood for a long moment, watching. Then he limped slowly to one of the chairs and sat, waiting in silence until Edge set a plate in front of him.

They still rarely spoke but from that day forward, they took their meals together.

* * *

At the hour for his nightly meditations, Edge couldn’t focus. 

Every day, morning and night, he searched for others, other Jedi who escaped, and every time he was greeted by nothingness. There was no one out there, the tendrils of the Force that tethered him his entire life were severed, still raw and bleeding even with the passing time. 

They were gone, all of them. He knew it, had known it, but tonight was when belief sank in its teeth. They were gone and he was completely, utterly alone. 

The taste of salt broke his concentration and Edge opened his sockets, wiping his tears away roughly with his sleeve. The Jedi were gone, dead, destroyed. Everyone he knew was dust. 

All but one.

Edge rose slowly, walked out the door of his tiny sleeping quarters. The next room was barely two steps away and it was unlocked. He opened it, stepping inside.

On the narrow bed Rus stirred, his skull lifting from the pillows as he asked, “edge? what are you doing?”

There was only sleepiness in his voice, no hint of fear or his endless anger. Almost, Edge could pretend this was another time, another place.

Rus said nothing as Edge stripped off his robes and climbed into the bed, finding bones that matched the bareness of his own.

Edge had been with others. Sexual intercourse was not strictly forbidden, and he’d found momentary pleasures before, both between the thighs of another and others between his. 

This was not sex; this was punishing Rus’s body and his own. Not with pain, no, the hurts they bore weren’t of the flesh, but of the soul. 

It was an echo of that first kiss so long ago in a clammy, rusted hold; this was that moment, frozen in time, twisted and darkened and waiting for him.

He swept his hands over Rus, touching the sleek bones he’d denied himself before. There were new scars, stories gouged into him that Edge did not want to learn. Pain that he couldn’t bear to share, not on top of what he already carried.

The need within him burned and he pushed Rus’s knees apart almost desperately, settling between his femurs as he sought the only connection he could.

Rus cried out as he slid into him and the sound of it was the most honest thing they’d shared since that single, damning kiss.

Rolling his hips, Edge fucked him slowly, watching Rus coming apart beneath him. Fingers clawed at his rib cage, clutching him, holding him desperately and Edge allowed it. Giving him the body he’d denied Rus before.

He took his own back, scraping his teeth against the line of Rus’s jaw, tasting his mouth again and again, sharing his own desperation, his own raw need.

The brink came too fast, inexorably, and he could feel Rus reaching for him. Not with his hands, those clung to him, refused to release their hold. It was a shaky, tentative mental touch through the Force, reaching out to him. 

Edge didn’t hesitate, opening himself up to the first Force contact he’d felt in weeks. The torn bond between them that had broken when Rus abandoned the Order was waiting for him. It was as damaged as the others that lay within Edge but when he reached for this one, it connected. 

Despite everything, despite all the anger, the hate, Rus splayed open his soul to him and Edge did not cringe from the poison of his mental touch. His soul was filled with the Dark Side, layers of darkness, of rage and hate drenched in blood, and beneath it all, flaking away like layers of paint, was the Rus he knew, that he had always known and wasn’t allowed to love. 

So broken, so hurt, so angry, that gentle soul buried in pain. But there.

In the shimmer of merging thought, he saw memory that wasn’t his own. The moment Edge’s team found him and before they could attack came Rus’s realization of what was truly happening. The clone troopers raising their weapon and—Rus caught the one aiming at Edge’s back with a brutal use of Force, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into a wall. His shot went wild, left Edge with only a graze on the side of his skull rather than a fatal injury. The other Jedi fell beneath the onslaught, dead and dying, while Rus’s lightsaber flashed, crimson slashing through the troopers until their screams faded. 

Rus, picking him up, carrying him to the ship. Rus, caring for his injury. Rus, here and now, writhing beneath him.

When he came, his seed fell over Edge’s hand, dripping onto his rib cage, and only then did Edge close his sockets, losing himself in the slick heat, in this moment, in this life that was now his, theirs, until his own pleasure fell over him, raw and real, burning within him, flaring in his own soul.

Within the Force they reclaimed their bond and in that embrace, Edge learned what it was like to fall.

-finis-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous warnings still apply, let's add on a warning for rough sex.

* * *

_I can save him._

With space travel there always came a certain level of boredom. Edge was accustomed to it after years of traveling to planet after planet, missions taking him from one end of the galaxy to another. From elegant shuttles to broken down freighters, he traveled in them all.

This ship was small but decently appointed. There was a game table with a variety of solo and group functions and a fairly extensive digital library available.

He no longer turned on the Holonet channels, not after the first few weeks. Any news was all propaganda, bleating about the fall of the Jedi and every word was layered with the unspoken knowledge of the end of the Republic 

There was nothing he could do to stop it, as useless as trying to hold back an avalanche. One Jedi Knight against the Empire? No. Eventually the stones would stop falling and once they settled, their time would come. He needed to be patient, and curb any wildly suicidal plans that surfaced.

That left him here on this ship. Trying to adjust to the situation the same way he was adjusting to the new face that gazed out at him from the mirror. The medical droids did their best but there was no bacta tank on a ship this size. Even if they could somehow afford a treatment in the future, it was far too late. The crack in his skull left by the blaster shot was a part of him now. 

_I can save him._

Edge was in his own room, kneeling on a meditation mat as he went through his morning routine. Rus was somewhere on the ship, likely performing maintenance. Edge couldn’t say where. During their waking hours, he kept the bond between them tightly closed, struggling to radiate the serenity that befit a Jedi Knight. 

Not that he thought any of that calm made it through Rus’s seamlessly tight shields, but he couldn't keep the bond open. Handling the constant barrage of anger and fear from Rus was beyond his skills and he couldn’t help wondering how he coped with it himself. Perhaps he didn’t. It was miraculous he had any sanity left in him.

Their days were spent mostly apart, their nights in Rus's bed and only then would Edge would open himself up. He loosened his hold on the bond between them while Rus did the same, both of them lowering barriers and shields, sharing the broken wastelands of Rus’s mind.

That openness allowed Edge glimpses of memory that were not his own. He took glimpses only, slivers of what the Sith had done to him in the name of training. Even those hints were horrifying, steeled as Edge was against the sight. Perhaps it was a testament to his strength that Rus survived it at all, but not as one unscathed. Rus had done terrible things, true, but the price for it had already been paid in screams and terror.

The Sith Lord found him so quickly after he’d left the Jedi. Rus barely grasping at straws of freedom before another caught hold of him, and Edge hadn’t known, he couldn’t have known, how lost, how vulnerable Rus had been to their slippery persuasion.

He couldn’t have known because he’d severed their partnership, all those years ago, after the incident on the freighter. Thinking that Rus needed distance, an opportunity to regain balance. Never expecting to discover he’d abandon the Jedi entirely not a week after they’d returned to the Temple on Coruscant. 

When the gossip finally made its way to him, Edge tried to seek Rus out, searched for him with what pitiful fragments of information he’d left. Thinking perhaps if he could speak to him, he could bring him back home.

Edge followed rumors and possible leads into the lowest levels of the planet, until he risked harsh reprimand himself, and only then did he return to the Temple.

If he could have known, if he’d caught so much as a whisper of the truth, he never would have abandoned the task, but the past could not be unmade.

It was years later when whispers of the return of the Sith carried to them an unknown name but a familiar face.

Edge hadn’t wanted to believe; none survived as witness, but he saw the data disk from the first attack. He saw what Rus had become.

And knew what he had to do.

_I can save him._

The thought had been a constant pulse in his mind. He said no such thing to the Council when he’d met with them to demand to be put on the team sent out to take down the Sith.

He did not refer to Rus as the designation he’d come to be known as. The title of Darth should not belong to Rus. 

_I can save him._

He said no such thing aloud, but he never attempted to hide it, if such a thing would have even been possible before a gathering of the most powerful Jedi Masters. He only spoke with calm insistence to be included on the roster of those hunting.

As Edge stood before them, he could feel them weighing his intent, feel their doubts in him. It was Yoda himself who spoke first, “Allow this, we will.”

None of the others questioned his judgment and Edge joined the others in what was to be an attempt to seek out the Sith. For Edge, it would be no attempt. He would either bring Rus back with him or kill him himself. Either way, Edge intended to grant him a measure of peace.

This was not an outcome he could have ever anticipated.

Edge opened his sockets and rose slowly from the meditation mat. He ached, a weariness not of the body but the soul.

_I can save him._

Having seen into Rus’s mind, his soul, Edge was no longer as certain as he had once been. 

But he refused to give up.

There was nothing else he could do.

* * *

It was the distinctive hum of a lightsaber in motion that drew him. Coming from one of the empty holds and Edge unconsciously walked faster, suddenly eager to see.

Rus was a skilled fighter; never as precise as Edge, who moved with clean, swift strokes. But there were few at the Temple who could have matched his sinuous grace; Rus was breathtaking in his fluidity, embracing the Force, letting it pour through him as he moved.

He flowed through katas, shifted stances as smoothly as others took a breath. He moved with his sockets closed, and between one step and the next, he became ethereal, as one with the Force.

Watching him was almost a form of meditation itself, a gift of the Universe to any who saw.

It had been years since he’d last seen that beauty and Edge couldn’t hold back his yearning to see it again.

Entering the room would be foolhardy, and instead, Edge stood in the doorway, looking in.

Rus had shed his outer cloak and his boots, standing in a dark tunic and trousers with the pale bones of his feet a startling contrast. He was moving swiftly through katas, saber forms that Edge didn’t recognize. The crimson glow of his lightsaber glared against the walls and instead of contentment, unease stirred in Edge’s soul.

This…this was not his Rus. Not these quick, vicious moves. Abrupt and cursory, not a single movement overextended, no motion wasted.

He was skilled, there was no question, but every swing of his lightsaber was filled with shifting aggression and brutality that was too painful to watch for long.

It was a work of art destroyed, mutilated and profane.

He came to an abrupt halt before Edge could move, panting softly and wiping sweat carelessly on his sleeve.

Edge didn’t move, only stood in the doorway. He couldn’t be sure Rus would even speak to him. He often didn’t, brushing past him as he went on about his day, and only at night in the bed they now shared did he say anything.

Once, he would have thought ruefully about how he might shut Rus up. Always too exuberant for a Jedi, chattering excitedly and Edge often indulged him for a time before coaxing him to meditate with him, perhaps sparring to calm him. Once, so long ago now.

Rus only met Edge’s uncertain gaze starkly. The Dark Side took its toll and the face that looked into his own was gaunt, pale. “we’ll need to stop again soon to refuel. do you have a preference where we go?”

Edge couldn’t have even said where they were now. “No.”

“great. we’ll stop at jabiim, then. always cleansing.” There was a sardonic note to that, but Edge couldn’t interpret why until they landed.

He understood when they got off the ship. Rain was pouring down, soaking through their cloaks almost immediately.

Rus leaned in to be heard over the roar of falling water, “if you want to see about getting some supplies, i’ll work on getting us fuel.”

Edge nodded mutely and together they walked towards the town. Muddy paths gave way to roads and large canopies were strung over the town itself, a huddle of plastacrete buildings already showing wear from the constant rainfall.

They were barely out of the rain when a ripple of warning came through the Force. Edge’s lightsaber was out before the first blaster shot came at them, sending it back towards the one who fired it.

The shooter fell with a scream but there were others already trying to surround them, flanking them to cut off any path of escape. 

At his back, Rus was moving, defending, and in that moment the years melted away. They moved together as one, as they had when they were younger, a lifetime ago.

Every movement was guarded by the other, Rus’s lightsaber filled the gaps left by Edge’s and between the two of them their defenses were as impenetrable as any Jedi pair should be.

It was difficult to see through the gloom but from what he could, Edge didn’t recognize any of them. Only strangers who were shooting not to wound but to kill and they returned that intent in kind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one creeping too close, his weapon aimed at Rus and Edge lashed out thoughtlessly, cutting down the assassin even as he let out a garbled scream that ended with a swift strike of a lightsaber. 

It was over as swiftly as it began. Edge stood over that last assailant, looking down at him. 

He stared upward, breath gurgling with blood and water, until he went still and the rain began to fill his sightless eyes. The rest were scattered around them, dead or dying, and as Edge watched, Rus leaned in close to one who still moved, the glowing blade of his lightsaber hovered over the attacker’s chest. 

Edge couldn’t hear what Rus said to him over the rain and the roaring in his own head, but he could the screams as Rus allowed his lightsaber to droop, skimming the man’s torso, the stench of burning clothes and flesh suddenly vivid in the air.

A second time, a third. The man’s lips moved when he stopped screaming again, whispering some answer, and finally Rus dealt a killing blow, deactivating his lightsaber even as he spat on the corpse.

That…that was not the clean, easy death a Jedi granted, and Edge staggered back a step, out from under the canopy and into the storm. Away from the vision of death striding towards him.

Rus stopped, keeping back several paces, and said nothing.

The rain dripped down Edge’s skull, stinging in crack running through it, but the clean taste of it filled his mouth, clearing away the sharpness of metal and fear. Edge swallowed and managed to ask, “Did he have any information?”

“enough. they’re bounty hunters,” Rus sneered. He picked up one of the blasters, examining it with critical distaste. “it seems we’ve managed to get quite a price on our heads in a short time. hope they got an advance payment.”

He crouched down and started rifling through their drenched clothes, searching pockets and pouches.

Edge stared, somehow shocked even after what he’d just seen. “What are you doing?”

“we still need fuel,” Rus glanced up at him, rain dripping down his gaunt skull, and his grin was sly but pointed. “unless you’d prefer i find another way to earn it?”

After spending his nights in Rus’s mind, he knew exactly how he’d been earning fuel and his soul clenched in rejection. Edge bit his tongue and looked away. From Rus’s growing smirk, he knew the unspoken answer. He returned to his search. In another moment, Edge crouched down to help.

Between the credits they found and the weapons, it came to a tidy sum.

“this should last us a while,” Rus said brightly, a mockery of past cheer and his grin bordered on maniacal. “maybe we’ll get lucky and the emperor will send a few more of these our way. think we better stick together to do the shopping, just in case.”

Edge said nothing, only followed Rus as he strode off. He looked back once and saw others begin creeping out of the buildings, scurrying to search the bodies for anything left of value. They were stripping off their clothes and boots when Edge looked away.

He turned his back to it all and followed Rus.

* * *

That evening they were back in space, their fuel reserves brimming, and Edge was once again kneeling in meditation, reaching out through the vast emptiness for any survivors.

Uselessly. 

Every night his attempts grew shorter, less fervent, every night his diligence slipped. But as he was about to stop for the night, ready to seek Rus out and fight for any salvation he could for him, it happened. For the first time since he’d woken on this ship, he felt it. Hardly more than a whisper of a touch but it was one he knew, one he’d known since he was a child in the crèche. 

Yoda.

For one brief moment, all the gentle warmth and comfort layered over that unfathomable power was joined to his, pulsing fervently in him.

Then it snapped away and was gone, leaving him empty once more.

No. No, no, no. 

His soul pounding, Edge could barely hold back the tide of his desperation, casting out again and again, as far as he could reach until exhaustion forced him to stop.

Yoda was alive, or had been moments before. Maybe he was in hiding? Edge knew that seeking others left him open to be found by other Force sensitives and Yoda was far too important to them for him to be caught simply by Edge’s needy despair. That could be the reason he’d broken the connection.

Or perhaps Yoda felt the taint of darkness from Rus through him.

Slowly, Edge rose to his feet, the bare bones clicking on the deck as he walked out.

Rus was in his quarters sitting on the bed, stripped down to his undershirt and thin trousers. He looked up when Edge walked in but before he could say a word, Edge grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him to his feet. Pushed him a few stumbling steps back until his shoulders were against the wall.

He didn’t fight, his sockets startled and wide, another disconcerting glimpse into the past at the person he had been before.

Every night it was a question whether to fuck him or kill him and every night, Edge knew that Rus would accept either one.

He crowded in close, pushing Rus against the wall with his own body. Seized his jaw in one hand and took his mouth. It yielded as it always did, Rus needed no seduction, no coaxing gentleness. He allowed any touch and did not bite back his cries, let them spill out between them.

His clothing was hardly a barrier, easily torn away. Soon enough he was hitched up against the wall, nearly bent in half with his knees hooked over Edge’s shoulders while Edge drove roughly into him again and again. The contrast of the sweet tightness of his body against the wide openness of his soul was nearly unbearable.

Always, he laid his soul open to Edge, making no attempt to hide what he had done. Or what had been done to him. Gutting his memories for Edge to behold and he still only took glimpses, slivers, enough to understand without having to face the brunt of it.

But with those memories there was also the now. Surfacing through the shadows and layers of pain, something purer was hidden, buried away and only now exposed. Something untouched by the taint within Rus’s soul and Edge reached for it with a thought, drawing it out from its hiding place.

A remnant of fractured beauty, a love that somehow escaped corruption and it shone only for him.

Edge allowed that remnant to settle within him, biting back a groan at the warmth it brought, cradling his own soul in sweetness. He slowed, gentling his movements, rocking into Rus with deliberate care and sent his own pulse of emotion into that remnant. Rus’s sudden, guttural cry was one of shocked pleasure, of need.

“oh, please,” Rus sobbed. He had no leverage, pinned against the wall, but his hands clutched furiously, clinging to him.

Edge caught his chin with a shaking hand and kissed him, as messily and visceral as the emotions boiling inside him. Orgasm struck with the force of a blow and he came with blinding rush, dimly feeling Rus do the same, quivering, nearly weeping against him. 

They slid down the wall together, still clinging to each other. Collapsing into a chaotic embrace of spindly limbs, each trying to get closer to the other. They lay there for a long moment, catching their breath. 

With delicate care, Edge began picking his way loose from Rus’s thoughts, carefully extracting himself from their bond and pulling up his shields again. Rus only let out a single, hitching sob but made no protest. He staggered to his feet, tugging Edge with him to the bed and they settled together in the blankets, still aching and slick with sweat.

_I can save him._

That endless cry, born in his thoughts the moment he’d seen what Rus had become, dwindled and went silent. Edge held Rus close, petting his skull with trembling fingers as his Jedi calm crumbled beneath despair, because how could he save Rus if he couldn’t even save himself.

-finis


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are still terrible. All previous warnings still apply.

* * *

When they were still in the crèche, sometimes Rus woke him late at night. Edge would come awake to the feeling of being watched and when he opened his sockets, he would find Rus kneeling by the bed, sockets wide and his eye lights eager.  
   
Rus was a restless sleeper and rather than wait to be scolded by the crèche Master for being awake, they would sneak out to one of the rooftop balconies. They would sit huddled into their cloaks and watch the city-planet move around them, the never-ending lights, the streams of ships and vehicles moving through the air. On nights like those, it was all the more difficult to get Rus out of bed the next morning, but Edge never turned him away, not once.  
   
They were never caught sneaking in or out, and it was only much later as a Knight himself that Edge wondered if crèche Master Toriel simply allowed this seed of rebellion in a rare moment of indulgence.  
   
If so, perhaps the mistake was hers, for Rus’s rebellion had grown with weedy ferocity from sapling to tree, with poison fruits hanging on low branches.  
   
But what did it matter now. She was likely as dead as the rest of them.  
   
It was ship’s night and Edge was coming awake, the sensation of being watched in his sleep was no longer a familiar one. His lightsaber was beneath his pillow and he curled a hand around it before he opened his sockets. To find Rus kneeling before him, a distorted mirror of his pose as a child.  
   
There was no eagerness on that gaunt face, none of the childish mischief it had once shown. But it was Rus all the same.  
   
“come on.” Rus rose easily to his feet. He was already dressed and it was unnerving to think he’d crept out of their shared bed without waking him. Edge threw off the blankets and dressed swiftly to follow him.  
   
Their supplies were already gathered at the lowered gangplank and Edge followed Rus’s silent lead, taking hold of a rucksack of his own.  
   
“Where are we going?” Edge asked, low, following Rus down to the planet they’d landed on hours ago.  
   
“we’re throwing the empire off our trail. now come on.”  
   
Rus led the way. N’zarr was in a cycle of 28 hours of darkness to their 30 hour days, but lamps and lights blazed in the streets, people milling about despite the hour. No marketplace on these streets; the only wares being sold were stimulants and the people themselves.  
   
The ship Rus led him to was larger than the last one, an S-class, and Rus moved swiftly to close the ramp the moment they were onboard. His suspicious urgency was given answer when a shout came from outside in the bare moment before the door closed.  
   
“Did you steal this ship?” Edge hissed, slinging his pack to the floor.  
   
“how do you think i got the last one?” Rus gave him that savage grin that was becoming all-too known to him. “did you think we were traveling around in one with an imperial tracker hidden somewhere?”  
   
Beneath that mad humor was an incongruously familiar exasperation, and the spear of memory it caused ached in his soul.  
   
He followed Rus to the cockpit, watching him begin the checks with haste. “What happened to the owner?”  
   
Rus didn’t look up at him, his hands moving swiftly over the controls. “don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.”  
   
Nausea rose and Edge sank into the co-pilot seat, struggling with the emotions bubbling within his soul. 

He’d killed when necessary, over the course of the war; most Jedi had. But the idea that Rus would commit cold-blooded murder…he’d done worse, far worse, Edge had seen some of his memories. But having it thrust into his face without the cushion of distance was a new sort of pain. He closed his sockets, breathing slowly and willing calm.  
   
Rus didn’t seem to notice his upset and went on, “once we hit hyperspace, we’ll be all right.”  
   
The ship lurched as it left the ground, pulling free of the bonds of gravity. Edge kept his sockets closed, tracking their progress through movement. Feeling the moment they left the atmosphere, traveling the required distance to hit hyperspace. Rus was muttering to himself as he plotted the course, and there was the sharp whine of the hyperdrive as it wound up and catapulted them through space. And then there was silence.  
   
“if it makes you feel better, he died quickly.”  
   
The casual ease with which Rus offered that made him open his sockets, but Edge only looked into the star field before him.  
   
“It doesn’t,” Edge said. He swallowed hard; the nausea was lingering. “You killed an innocent to steal his ship.”  
   
“innocent?” Rus let out a harsh laugh and that finally made Edge look over at him. He was slouched sideways in the pilot’s chair, legs dangling over the arm. “you should take a look in the hold if you think he was innocent. somehow, i don’t think whoever was in those manacles and chains would agree.”  
   
Edge blinked slowly, the implications sinking in. “He was a slaver.”  
   
“does that make it better?” Rus mocked. He rolled lightly to his feet, looming over Edge, leaning in to sneer. “i still killed him. so long as i play executioner rather than murderer, will that suit your morals?”  
   
“I—“ Words left him. Edge had never seen himself as an executioner or a murderer. He was a Jedi Knight and there were times when loss of life was not preventable. Part of him agreed; if the decision for life was between a slaver and those he chose to enslave, then the choice was an easy one but—  
   
Rus moving suddenly to straddle his lap startled him out of his thoughts. He rolled his hips against Edge’s, settling in, leaned close to breathe against the side of his skull, “since we’re in a new ship, we should mark it as our own, don’t you think?”  
   
Edge’s hands hesitated uncertainly, hovering over him. Rus never initiated anything, not since that first misjudged kiss all those years ago. He was always responsive, even eager, when Edge touched him, spread his knees without question and allowed access to any part of his body or mind. But this was something new.  
   
When Edge only dithered in foolish uncertainty, Rus leaned back, head tilted to the side. “no?”  
   
There was something fragile in that question, anticipating the echo of rejection.  
   
He settled his hands on Rus’s pelvis, dragging him down and lifting his own, grinding up against him. “I didn’t say that.”  
   
The sudden, rising need left him more the bumbling fool than a person of any grace or skill. Between the two of them, they managed with clumsy haste to pull enough clothes aside for Edge to get a hand between Rus’s legs, testing the slickness already waiting for him. His own robes were yanked aside, Rus fumbling with his belt, poise lost as he wrapped an eager hand around Edge. The cold of his finger bones made him hiss, but they warmed quickly, stroking the length of his hardness.  
   
The only sound was the rustle of clothing, the jangle of belts, and the low, greedy sounds captured in their mouths between kisses.  
   
Soon enough the chair was leaned back as far as it could go while Rus rode him, his head thrown back as he gasped out throaty cries of pleasure. His bones flushed with arousal, disguising the pale gauntness that was a part of him now.  
   
He almost looked like himself, if Edge didn’t push too deeply into his mind. So beautiful, the sinuous roll of his hips marking him as the Rus of his memory in the way his katas no longer did. All that grace, that breathtaking fluidity concentrated down into this obscene moment.  
   
Edge shoved that thought aside, ignoring memory for once in favor of the now. He took hold of Rus’s hips and pulled him down hard, pushing into the slick, tight heat of his body.  
   
His pleasure peaked almost too quickly, his shields falling away enough to allow Rus to feel what he was feeling. His startled, choked cry was shared between them at the same moment of their ecstasy. It was blinding, exhilarating, addictive, unable to tell where his own orgasm began and Rus’s ended, doubling and redoubling between them until they both collapsed weakly together, still throbbing with aftershocks.  
   
Edge was still panting when Rus pushed himself upright. The flush of his arousal was fading, leaving behind pale bone and he didn’t try to stop Rus from pulling away, straightening his clothes with brisk, jerky movements.  
   
For the first time, Rus brought up his shields before Edge, his emotions cutting off abruptly and he strode out of the cockpit without a word, leaving Edge alone with his confusion.  
   
He pulled up his trousers and buckled his belt, smoothing out his robes. Whatever was troubling Rus, little good could come from trying to force it out of him. He’d already spoken more in the last couple hours than he usually did the entire day.  
   
Better perhaps to check their new accommodations, take the time to put away their supplies, perhaps even return to sleep. It was still late per their ship’s time.  
   
Edge didn’t think too closely about his decision to avoid the main hold.  
 

* * *

   
The ship was slightly larger than their previous one and much better appointed. There were several sleeping berths, utilitarian but decently comfortable. Edge chose the largest one, stripping the bed linens and replacing them with fresh.  
   
The few personal possessions he discovered, he gathered up and put into the ship’s incinerator, all except a small puzzle cube made in an unfamiliar design. He was inspecting it curiously when the door swished open and Rus stepped in.  
   
He stripped off his dark outer robe, tossing it carelessly on a chair. “not going to do your nightly impression of a radar dish before bed?”  
   
“No.” In truth, he hadn’t done any nightly meditation since that single brush with Yoda.  
   
“good,” Rus sighed, flopping into the chair. He spun in into a lazy half-circle until it faced Edge. “i was wondering when you’d get tired of painting a target on us for any force-sensitive out there.”  
   
Edge didn’t look away from the cube, carefully turning one side to match the pattern. There was no point in any protest, it was nothing more than the truth. Leaving himself bare and exposed in his search was as good as drawing a map. It was a fair chance that was how the bounty hunters found them. 

But this was the first time Rus made mention of it.  
   
“they’re all dead,” Rus went on, still swiveling in the chair. “what were you going to do if you found someone, anyway? run off to find them and leave me all on my lonesome?”  
   
“No.” Edge set the cube aside. This was going to demand his full attention.  
   
Rus stilled his chair and gave Edge a mockingly thoughtful look. “take me with you, then? show off your pet sith?” He ran his tongue over his teeth before clacking them together loudly. “best be careful with that, i’ve been known to bite.”

A more curious puzzle than the cube was the way Rus, so bitter and broken, could still show such fragility. His dark humor was barely a disguise for his fear and Edge only shook his head and did not reply.  
   
Anger was nearly crackling in Rus’s eye lights, underlining the laziness in his voice as he added, slyly, “after all, look what happened when your little group tried to hunt me down.”  
   
“The clone troopers killed them, not you.”  
   
Perhaps it was a mistake to answer. Vicious glee flared and Rus leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “they did. were you expecting something different from me?”  
   
“You would have killed them, then.” Edge didn’t move as Rus stood, moving to stand behind him. His fingertips were hard and cold, following the lines of his coronal sutures.  
   
“that’s generally the expected response to someone trying to kill you, you kill them back.” He traced the crack in Edge’s skull and he flinched; it was still painfully sensitive.  
   
“And me?” Edge kept his voice even, emotionless. “Were you planning to kill me?”  
   
His hand dropped away. “unfair,” Rus said, sulkily.  
   
“You don’t get to decide what questions are fair.”  
   
But Rus only stalked away, out of the room and didn’t return by the time Edge stripped off his robes and climbed into bed.

* * *

It could have been moments after falling asleep or hours when Edge awoke to that feeling of staring again. Rus was crouched over him, his eye lights pale and burning hot in the darkness.

“Rus?” Edge asked, softly, and oh, he was afraid in that moment the name didn’t belong. But Rus only blinked, slowly, staring at him.  
   
“no, i wasn’t,” Rus whispered, thin and hoarse. “i could never. not you, and you know it, damn you. now fuck me.”

Edge reached out with shaking hands and took hold of him, rolling Rus beneath him to do as he was told.

Only to have Rus struggle suddenly, fighting his grip. Confused, he pushed harder, trying to catch hold of Rus’s wrists even as he twisted away.  
   
“no!” Rus spat and his anger was a fury, hot and bitter, “don’t, don’t you dare hold yourself back from me now. not now that i’ve had you, you can’t—“  
   
His fingers scraped painfully down Edge’s rib cage, leaving scratches deep enough to sting. The pain cleared his sleep-fogged thoughts and he understood.

He dropped his shields, opening the bond between them and allowed the splayed open touch of Rus’s soul against his own. 

Rus moaned, sagging back on the bed, allowing Edge to settle on top of him even as he slurred out, “yes, touch me, yes, yes, be with me, need you, need this.”

He did, let their growing pleasure loop between them while Rus pleaded, begging him for more.

* * *

For the third time, Edge’s sleep was interrupted that night. Not by a stare but a scream. 

Rus’s screams, the Force vibrated around them with the strength of his terror. It was automatic to catch hold of him, dragging him close even as he fought both the tangling blankets and Edge.

Those struggles were feeble, more befitting to a child than one called Sith, his flailing hands easily caught as Edge pulled him into his arms.  
   
His cries were garbled, senseless, and Edge only held him tightly, murmuring useless reassurances. “Shh, I have you. I have you, easy now, easy.”  
   
Slowly, his struggles ceased and Rus sagged back against him, trembling in his arms. Only the occasional hitch of his breath revealing tears that Edge couldn’t see in the darkness.

He was muttering, almost too low to be heard and it took a long moment for Edge to understand the words. His soul clenched, cramping viciously when he did.

Over and over, a hoarse whisper, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry…”  
   
There was nothing he could say, no comfort past what he was already offering. Unthinkingly, Edge began to hum softly, one of the songs the Masters sung to them in the crèche.

Slowly, Rus’s trembling eased and he lay unmoving in Edge’s arms. His eye lights cast wavering shadows that vanished and reappeared as he blinked. 

Edge did not fall asleep again, only held him and sang softly against the darkness that surrounded them.

-finis-


	4. Chapter 4: Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude.

* * *

It felt good to strip off his robes and sink into the fragrant tub of steaming water. Edge didn’t want to think about how much of their precious credits this cost; he only wanted to be clean in a way that sonic showers didn’t allow. The water was perfumed with some sort of oil that left it silky against his bones and smelling sweetly fresh. 

The Jedi spoke against too much indulgence of worldly pleasures, but in Edge’s opinion, a bath was a necessity, not an extravagance. 

Rus was the one who chose to stop here on Oawo. He'd chosen to land at a trading post far outside the larger main one where most of the ships went through and he walked through the streets with the confidence of one who'd been here before. Edge only followed him, distantly curious as Rus led him to an excessively large building, the sign in a language that Edge did not know. It was something of a pleasant surprise to find it was a bathhouse and a private one at that, though Edge quickly guessed it wasn’t the luxurious tubs that most of their clients came for. 

The door creaked and Edge opened his sockets warily, his hand hovering over the lightsaber set close by before seeing it was only Rus joining him. Several of the bath attendants had given them both speculative looks and despite Rus's curt assertion they wouldn't need help, he didn't trust that none of them would make the attempt to earn an extra credit or two. 

“comfortable?” Rus asked as he toed off his boots. 

“I am,” Edge admitted. Space was cold, always; no matter how often Edge added another layer of clothing or raised his temperature through the Force, space travel left him with a persistent chill and the heat sinking into his bones was soothing after so many weeks.

He watched as Rus stripped off his own robes, tossing them carelessly atop of Edge’s carefully folded ones. 

For all the sex they’d had, this was the first time he’d had a chance to truly look at the changes wrought on Rus’s bones. Their couplings were often in the dark or with only enough clothing pulled aside to allow it. Rus did not shy away from his gaze and the sight of his bones stole away some of Edge's contentment. They were littered with scars, untold stories of pain written across them in roughly healed ridges and visible cracks.

There was a fresh bruise on one hip bone, but that was one Edge suspected he’d left himself.

Rus climbed into the tub directly across from Edge and his pleasured sigh as he sank into the water was filled with more honest emotion than he normally showed in a handful of days put together.

They sat for a time in silence, chin-deep in the delicately scented bath. Steam rose from the water as fresh was constantly pumped into the tub, and if Edge let his thoughts fall idle, he could pretend this was another time, another place where Rus was his closest friend and the Jedi-- 

“we can’t stay here long,” Rus said languidly, spoiling Edge's all-too-brief fantasy. “the only reason no one is bursting in here with blasters firing is they're terrible shots and they like their lives more than the possibility of money.”

Edge didn’t question the truth of that. The bathhouse matron had been willing enough to take their credits but the pointed way she avoided looking at them spoke of one who did not want to get involved.

“Why did we stop here to begin with?” Their fuel supply was still good for a few weeks as were their provisions.

Rus trailed his fingers through the silky water, raised them dripping wet to flick droplets at Edge. “you always hated being filthy. always bitched about the sonic showers and how water was the only way to actually be clean.”

“I don’t bitch,” Edge protested automatically. 

Laughter echoed in the room and Rus shook his head. “no, not you, never. not if it was about being tired or cold, or even wet. but dirty? That mission on botav, you never stopped complaining about the mud, said you could feel it in your joints, you—”

Rus trailed off, his amusement fading. It was as if some part of himself had broken free for a moment, only to be dragged back in by the darkness that haunted him, imprisoning him once again. Edge closed his sockets, leaning back into the heated water, but his previous contentment eluded him. 

There was nothing but the burble of water, nothing but Rus sitting on the bench across from him, Rus with his gaunt cheek bones and the ever-present shadows beneath his sockets, and Edge didn’t think. He reached out and caught hold of Rus’s wrist, watched his sockets fly open as he yanked, pulling Rus clumsily into his lap. 

“you’ll get us kicked out,” Rus said, but he didn’t struggle, allowed Edge to pull his pelvis tight against his own.

“We’ll leave a tip,” Edge told him, roughly. He didn’t wait, raising Rus up and lowering him back down at an angle that allowed him to slide inside. Relished his gasp, his hoarse cries as he rocked Rus in his lap, groaning at the exquisite tightness, the softness that clenched around him with every slow thrust.

The rising pleasure wasn’t enough, was never enough. Edge allowed his shields to drop, felt Rus doing the same, and his Force-touch was as open as always, hiding nothing from him. But as exposed as he was, Edge still couldn’t reach him, couldn’t dig through the maze of chaos to find _him_ , not if Rus didn’t allow it. 

His gaping soul was an illusion, a lie, and Edge thrust harder, dragging Rus against him, fucking into him and he could make Rus cry out, could make him writhe and convulse and beg him for more, but he couldn’t make him show himself, could touch him with the Force but couldn’t find where he was hiding in his own mind. 

In the end, Edge had to surrender to the pleasure of his own body, coming with a desperate groan even as Rus did the same, the water around them clouding briefly with their release before the pumps swept it away. 

Rus sagged against him, panting, and his smirk was blurred with contentment...and something else. Victory, Edge thought, and had to stifle a blurt of resentment, choking it off in calm. 

It wasn’t enough to keep him from pushing Rus off his lap, more roughly than he’d intended. His smirk only widened, and Edge ignored it, sinking down to his chin in the hot water. 

They’d need to leave soon enough, and he intended to enjoy what was left of their bath, as much as he could. 

At least this indulgence was something he could control. 

-fin-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, in addition to the regular warnings, all that tasty darkness and angst, there are references in this chapter that the ship they are on used to belong to slavers. Just like to give a heads up!

* * *

The main hold in their stolen ship was large and sterile, stinking of disinfectant. Whatever happened here before they’d taken it was washed away by cleaning droids. Nothing remained but the manacles lining the walls.

Edge spent time every day working on removing them. It was slow, methodical work but it kept him occupied. He had no idea how long they’d stay on this ship but he couldn’t stand knowing they were there, feeling the echo of old pain embedded in them. 

He kept a tight shield on his emotions whenever he was here and tried not to notice how tiny some of the cuffs were.

“you’re almost done.” Came from the doorway.

It was true; there were only two sets left after he finished this one. Edge tossed the chains into the pile of others he’d already removed and shifted down to start on another.

Rus walked in on silent feet, crouching down by the pile. He lifted one of the chains, pinched distastefully in two fingers, then let it drop with a loud clank. “so what are your plans for redecorating?”

“I don’t have any,” Edge admitted. He kept his attention on the manacle he was loosening.

Rus hummed thoughtfully, turning to look over the room in its entirety. The hold was large, running most of the length of the ship. “it might be a good place for sparring. get in a little exercise.”

“I don’t want to fight you.” It was too painful to see; Rus no longer moved in the ways Edge expected. The changes wrought by his turning were inescapable, but neither did Edge want to wallow in it.

“sparring isn’t fighting,” Rus said with deceptive lightness. “it would do us both some good, work off a little excess energy.”

Edge didn’t hear him move, only the shiver through the Force warned him about the arm that was suddenly across his throat, not quite tight enough to choke even as Rus murmured gleefully into his audial canal. “maybe i won’t give you a choice.”

He thrust an elbow back sharply into Rus’s rib cage, knocking him back, and rolled to his feet. Warily, Edge backed away, watching as Rus gracefully leapt to his own feet, his eye lights sparkling with vicious delight.

Edge took a slow breath, seeking calm. If this was going to happen, he was not going to give in easily. Choices were fast becoming a luxury for him and if Rus wanted to make this one for him, then he could deal with the consequences.

They circled each other warily, and Edge braced himself as Rus cast out a hand. But he only used the Force to shove the manacles Edge had removed into the far back corner. Whether it was to prevent an accidental injury or to remove the temptation of a weapon didn’t matter and while his attention was on that, Edge struck the first blow. 

Rus staggered back from the kick to his sternum, his breath whuffing out of him even as he quickly caught his balance. 

He could feel Rus’s disbelief at that underhanded trick, his savage glee before the bond between them sealed tightly and the fight began in earnest. 

They were both quick and skilled, using the Force to dodge blows before they could fall and if Rus was more acrobatic than Edge, leaping from the walls and twisting through the air, then Edge was faster, one step ahead of any strike. The few blows that connected did so with harsh intent. Neither of them were pulling their punches, bruises forming almost the moment a strike landed.

Even so, despite his earlier reluctance he couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill to sparring with another Force user, and one he knew well at that. For every unexpected move Rus made, there was another that Edge recognized and knew how to counter, and he did with unrelenting skill of his own.

The grace he’d feared lost in Rus came in glimpses and hints, more and more obvious as they went on, and it was his distraction that allowed Rus to get close enough for a harsh blow, almost enough to send him to his knees.

But it brought him too close, enough for Edge to catch hold of him, sweeping his feet out from under him and sending Rus crashing to the floor 

Edge straddled him in an instant, pinning his wrists down and there was only a flash of warning through the Force, too quick for him to react before he was flung viciously away, slamming into a wall hard enough to knock his breath from him. He slid down the wall into a defensive crouch, waiting.

On the other side of the hold, Rus was standing, panting harshly. His skull was pale, the flush of exertion faded and his eye lights blazed from the darkness of his sockets. The very air was thick with anger, hatred…fear…

Edge made no move to defend himself, stayed crouching low, and in uncertain increments, Rus calmed. Until he looked away from the steadiness of Edge’s gaze, swiping a trembling hand over his skull.

“don’t do that,” Rus warned.

“All right,” Edge said evenly. He eased back to sit against the wall, lifting his arms to cross his wrists over his head. “Would you prefer to do it to me?”

That blaze returned though it wasn’t anger or hatred gleaming from Rus’s eye lights this time. But he didn’t move, stood like a statue and only his gaze slid over Edge, almost as heavy as a touch.

“don’t let me hurt you,” Rus whispered hoarsely.

“I won’t.” It was already a lie. Rus hurt him simply by being, with every scar he revealed, every fracture in his soul, he hurt.

And here in this room where the unthinkable had surely occurred time and again, Edge was willing to allow more.

He couldn’t say whether Rus believed him, but he nodded shortly and with two long steps, Rus was on him.

His finger bones were an icy contrast to the rough fabric of his handwraps as they slipped beneath his tunic to drag over him. 

Edge groaned at that rough touch. “Your hands feel good.”

His eye lights flared, Rus’s soul reaching out through their bond, brushing against him. Rus was greedy for praise, always, desperate for it, and Edge gave what he could. Let his moans and desire fall free between them, gasped about the skill in his hands, the way they lingered and teased, bringing him to the brink of pleasure time and again, until Edge was pleading, hips moving raggedly into that touch while his own hands held firm against the wall.

An eternity later Rus let him shudder to completion, sagging back, and only then did reach out, pulling Rus into his arms despite the vicious smugness radiating from his Force signature. 

His own soul felt heavy, swollen with unfamiliar emotion that Edge couldn’t bear to deny, not any longer. Sex was allowed, attachment forbidden to the Jedi, but—

The Jedi were dead.

He cupped the softness of it in mental hands, released that emotion into the bond between them.

Rus jerked against him. Slowly, he pulled away and his expression was close to shocked, almost despairing.

“no,” he whispered, low, and the anguish pulsed along their connection. “no, you can’t, don’t, you— don’t you dare! not now.”

“Rus—“

But in a whirl of his cloak, he was gone, running away and his shields slammed brutally shut, blocking Edge entirely.

Edge let his skull drop back against the wall. He could smell his own sweat and Rus’s, still heady in the air. His body ached, in more ways than one.

That soft, forbidden emotion lingered, settling into him and Edge held it carefully in his own soul, cradling it, allowing it to take root, to grow.

If Rus was ever able to accept it, his love would be waiting.

-finis-


	6. Chapter Six: Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little short here, can't help myself. 
> 
> How is it that a Star Wars AU inspires me to dark, awful things? Then again, SW always had some dark, gothic themes, didn't it. 
> 
> Anyway, yes, dark themes ahead, sex as a coping mechanism, non-explicit memories of past torture, and Edge needs to be more careful spending his nights with a Sith.

* * *

_Pain, nothing but fear and pain, and so alone, so terribly alone. Death would be a relief, a gift that would not be given, and the pain would be his only companion, unless he obeyed, unless, unless—_

Edge couldn’t choke back his screams as he sat upright in the bed, couldn’t stop, all that pain, all that suffering, for so long and he couldn’t, he—

He couldn’t breathe. There was a hand over his mouth, trying to trap the screams within and he could distantly hear talking, pleading, words that didn’t register. He couldn’t breathe, he was smothering, tears streaming from his sockets down over the hand covering his mouth and nasal aperture. It was with a desperate wrench that Edge struggled free, falling graceless from the bed to the floor. 

He scrambled back, tripping over his own limbs, all his training lost to terror until he was pressed against a wall, breathing like he was going to die, like he nearly had died.

It took far too long for his vision to clear and when it did, at first Edge couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Rus was still on the bed, tangled in the blankets, and he had his hands pressed tightly to the sides of his skulls, rocking and muttering, low, disjointed words.

“don’t, don’t, don’t scream, don’t,” Rus begged, pleaded. One of his hands was stained pink with Edge’s tears.

The nightmare was slowly fading, and Edge looked inward at it, looking at it was as much distance as he could manage. A nightmare, yes, but not his nightmare. Less a dream than a memory, more horror than Edge could really comprehend, for far longer than seemed possible. How long had Rus endured before he broke, how much pain could be to borne before anyone would break? 

Carefully, Edge drew up his mental shields, closing them off as it seemed he should have before falling asleep, to keep those nightmares from finding a home in his own mind. He deliberately made noise as he stood, the bare bones of his feet scuffing the floor, the bed creaking as he set a knee on it. Edge kept his distance as Rus jerked, looking up at him wildly and there was still terror there in his eye lights, fading slowly as he met Edge’s steady gaze. 

Rus flailed out with a hand, the one stained with Edge’s tears, and caught hold of his rib cage, his fingers digging in painfully, clawing at him as Edge followed that desperate pull, settling between Rus’s knees. One hand slipped down to the crux of his legs, fingers working until Edge could hear slick sounds, and then he shifted to settle it on Edge’s shoulder, fingers smeared with his own orange in addition to salty pink. 

“do it, now,” he whispered, raw and wounded. “have me, fuck me. make me forget.”

Arousal wasn’t exactly the word for what Edge felt, but it was close enough. Enough that he could obey, pressing into him as Rus let out a low, stuttering moan, clutching Edge to him as he did his best to cloud those memories, smother them in pleasure. Until they could both forget, for a little while. 

-finis-


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this started as a little blurb I wrote on twitter. Then it became this gorgeous comic that cheapbourbon did. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Please seek it out and love it here. ](https://cheapbourbon.tumblr.com/post/185189278009/picture-edge-focusing-like-a-good-little-jedi)
> 
>  
> 
> Of course, that meant I had to flesh out that little blurb....

* * *

Days at a time on a ship in space, even a decently appointed one, often dragged on with distractions few and far between. Now that the manacles lining the walls were removed and destroyed, Edge found himself wandering down the hold when he wanted time to himself. It was large and mostly empty; good enough for what he wanted to try today. 

Rus was at the helm, working on the navigation computer. He was planning something, Edge wasn’t certain what, not even sure he wanted to ask. But they would need fuel again and supplies, soon, and if Rus wanted to make plans for that eventuality, Edge was of no mind to stop him. 

Not that he was avoiding Rus; he wasn’t, couldn’t on a ship this size. But waking next to him every cycle after a restless night’s sleep was leeching away his customary calm and every day it was harder to reclaim. Much as he’d been avoiding meditation, unwilling to expose himself to the void the Jedi left in the Force, if he wanted to be of any use to either of them, he needed to find his balance.

The puzzle box that had been left aboard the ship gave him the idea, something he hadn’t done since he’d been an apprentice. Using the Force, a person could attempt to solve the box. A child would simply focus on the puzzle, moving each piece individually. As a Knight, Edge could manage multiple pieces, each moving independently, as well as his own weight, sitting cross-legged as he hovered a handspan from the floor. 

His focus was on the puzzle, on holding himself up, on the delicate balance he could feel in the Force. Reaching out to it was as familiar as an embrace with an old friend. He welcomed the Force within him and became one with it, never bending it to his will, and it flowed in him, allowing him to use its power. It was a good, calming exercise, helping to settle some of the constant empty ache in his soul.

But the sudden feel of hands on him took him off guard, along with warm breath against the side of his skull as Rus whispered to him, "you always were good at puzzles."

That was all it took to break his focus. His sockets flew open as the box clattered to the ground, puzzle pieces scattering, and Edge followed it, landing hard on his coccyx with a groan.

Rus sighed softly in mocking disappointment, "hm, but you used to be better. what's the matter, jedi, can't handle a little distraction?"

He turned away, his robe swirling at his ankles as he carelessly gave Edge his back. 

No. Not carelessly at all. He knew Edge wasn’t going to lash out at him. 

Edge rolled to his knees, his hands braced on the floor, but his grip on the Force was weak, slippery; the embrace he'd felt all his life, since before he came to the Temple, was eluding him. 

Or perhaps rejecting him. ~~(like Yoda had)~~

Tears were burning in his sockets, though he refused to allow them to fall. As he knelt there, he watched mutely as the puzzle pieces spun back up into the air, moving in a frenzy as they linked and joined. 

He turned his head enough to see Rus leaning against the wall, his fingers idly twirling. One of his eye sockets was dark, Edge realized, something he'd never seen in their days together as Knights, and the other was flaring with bright orange. His smirk was the tainted one that made Edge ache to see. But it was better than the alternative, better than seeing all his smiles snuffed out entirely. 

It was. 

Only, that smirk twisted into a frown. The puzzle pieces were still moving, twisting and interlocking, and it took a long moment for Edge to realize why that frown was going darker, Rus's single eye light shrinking to a furious pinprick. 

He might have a better grasp on the Force right at this moment, might be able to brutally shape it to his will...but he couldn't solve the puzzle. 

Edge watched as the pieces moved faster and faster, clacking then slamming into each other. Until finally one of them snapped in two, the broken halves clattering to the floor and spinning away into a corner. The other pieces froze, hanging briefly in the air, then fell to the floor as well. 

Standing by the wall, Rus's shoulders rose and fell as he breathed heavily, both his sockets eerily dark, and Edge had no doubt that Rus could still see him, could see everything. Edge did not move, did not smirk or offer a caustic remark. The air between them was Force-heavy, thick with clinging darkness that whispered and offered, an oily welcome if Edge chose it.

Edge ignored it. He kept his gaze on Rus. 

Slowly, his eye lights reappeared, dim and unfocused, and his breathing eased. He blinked and almost seemed startled to see Edge, his head tilting to one side curiously. 

With deliberate care, Edge rocked up to his feet, walking slowly over to him. Rus’s eye lights widened and for one brief moment, he saw his Rus, _his_ , despite the dark robes, despite the gaunt skull, the shadows that were embedded beneath his sockets. 

“Rus—” Edge began, softly. 

And he was gone, swallowed again into darkness.

A fist shot out and caught the front of Edge’s tunic, swinging him around, and Edge hit the wall with a grunt. He barely caught his balance before Rus was pressed up tightly against him, his finger and thumb catching Edge’s chin and tilting it deliberately upward. 

Instead of taking a kiss, Rus leaned in to croon against the side of Edge’s skull, “the only puzzle i’m really interested in is how to open your trousers.” 

Those fingers left his chin, tracing a path down the front of his tunic to his belt. Edge closed his sockets as Rus roughly tugged open his clothes, lifting his own hands to Rus’s robes. Soon they were bare enough, Rus climbing him with skittering grace, femurs bracketing Edge’s pelvis. Edge could only brace himself against the wall as Rus rode him almost brutally, groans escaping from between his clenched teeth.

Whatever aloofness he’d felt from the Force earlier had no place here. Rus dropped his shields without question and allowed Edge into the embrace of his mind, no less dangerous than the one of his arms. As their pleasure mounted, the cloying darkness within him parted, drew back, and allowed Edge another glimpse of his Rus, his, that soft, hidden warmth brushing against him. He was gone as quickly as he appeared, swamped again by darkness and then by orgasm as they cried out in unison, both of them lost in a sweat-soaked moment of mindless pleasure.

They panted together, Rus clinging weakly as he started to slide down Edge’s body to the floor. The Force surged in Edge abruptly and instinctively he caught hold of Rus before he could fall, holding on tightly. 

Then he braced himself for anger, for Rus’s fury at Edge’s presumption.

Instead, he laughed softly, leaning back far past the center of his gravity, allowing Edge’s Force-grasp to hold him up. 

“now that’s the control i remember,” Rus licked his teeth, his eye lights glittering. “why don’t you put it to good use, jedi?”

He gasped as Edge caught hold of his hips, bracing him.

“Try to distract me now,” Edge said hoarsely. Rus only clung to him, crying out raggedly and he was beautiful, even as the ruin that he was. 

This was not the calming afternoon Edge had been seeking, but some bitterly amused part of his soul could only laugh inwardly, as in the end, Rus was a perfect distraction. 

-finis-


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Aside from the normal past ones of dark themes, let's add on for brief non-consensual touching, violence, mentions of prostitution, and death of OC's.

* * *

When Edge woke in ship’s morning, the bed next to him was always empty. Rus would already be awake and gone, off doing whatever it was he did during the day. It no longer disturbed him that Rus could sneak from their bed without waking him. He simply accepted it and rose, pulling on clothes freshly cleaned by the onboard droids overnight.

Edge went through every day the same. Beginning with morning meditations, though he no longer searched for other Jedi. He only opened himself up to the Force, seeking calm and serenity. 

He couldn't say how well he achieved it. 

He would prepare a morning meal. The galley was well-stocked by the ship's previous owner, enough that frugality with their supplies was more common sense than a requirement.

Rus joined him for the meals. Sometimes, he would comment on what he was doing for the day, about ship’s maintenance or the new course they were taking. Others, his words would be gleefully cruel, prodding where Edge’s emotions sat too close to the surface. About the Jedi, about his own lack of control as of late. 

Painful as they were, those occasions were rare enough. Edge withstood them with the same stoicism each time, and if he occasionally broke, pushed Rus facedown into the table and fucked him until his insults were wordless cries, well, there were no Jedi left to shame him.

Mostly, Rus said nothing at all. He came in and ate his share, and then left as silently as he’d come. On those occasions, his eye lights were distant, turned inward, and Edge could not guess at what he saw. He didn’t ask, didn’t press, only offered what meals he could and allowed Rus his aloofness. After everything, it was the least he could do. 

At ship’s night, Edge returned to their shared bedroom to meditate again. Rus usually only came in after he was finished. 

Any serenity his meditations granted would be quickly lost. Rus could be tender in their bed or he could be savage. Edge accepted any and all of his affections, allowed him to take whatever he needed of his body. His soul was also on offer, but Rus never probed it deeply.

They’d sleep twined together with sweat still cooling on their bones. Edge was careful to draw his shields up tightly to keep any nightmares from seeping into his mind and if Rus’s thrashing woke him most nights, he never attacked again. 

Troubled as it was, the sleep Edge got was enough and the next day, he would begin again. He didn’t ask what they were doing, where they were going; he didn’t care. All he had was Rus and keeping him close was all Edge cared about. 

Safe would be preferred but Edge wasn’t about to ask for favors the universe couldn’t possibly grant.

* * *

Rus was sitting unexpectedly in the crew compartment at the holo-table, with dozens of star charts opened when Edge walked out of their quarters that morning. He swiped briskly through them, studying each one with a dissatisfied frown.

"What are you doing?" Edge asked. His curiosity was a distant second to his hope that Rus would tell him.

He said nothing for a long moment, long enough for Edge’s hopes to begin falling, only to stutter upward when Rus said, “i've been thinking we need to roost somewhere for a while.” He squinted at another map, flicking it aside with a sigh. “i supposed we could spend a few years traveling through space, but i'll be honest, that idea is less than appealing. can’t say i’m sure of a good place to stop. even some of the outskirts planet would have heard about the bounty on our heads.”

“It would probably be difficult to find one that hasn’t.” Edge didn’t listen to the Holonet often, but any time he’d turned it on, there was almost always a mention of them and a description. The bounty was rising steadily, enough to tempt anyone with looser morals.

“there's always tatooine, but--" Rus grimaced.

"You never liked the heat." It brought to his mind a memory of a long-ago mission on Absanz. The dry, rising heat had been unbearable for Rus, who ended up stripping off as much of his uniform as was possible without being indecent and offending their hosts. He should have been able to control his body temperature through the Force, and never struggled with the cold, but heat seemed to thwart him. Edge remembered teasing him about it, remembered meditating with him to help, their shields down, minds touching with the familiarity that spoke of their long friendship. Edge never could have guessed the feelings Rus was hiding for him, he’d never suspected, he hadn’t known—

"some things never change, i suppose." There was something sharply mocking in Rus’s eye lights and Edge wondered what memories he was recalling. "but you're right, i have no intention of hiding out in some miserable desert. do you have any suggestions?"

There were a few places Edge could think of, a few people who were not from the lost Jedi who might help him. Some of them were more of the unsavory sort and would possibly be willing to sacrifice the bounty to help him.

But none of them would accept Rus and so it became a moot point.

"No."

Rus reached out and flicked the star map, sending it spinning. "we’re both pretty distinctive, even on an outskirts planet. besides, if we’re out there you probably won’t stumble over any jedi...ah, but you weren’t searching for them anymore, are you?"

The cut of those words barely registered before Rus slapped a hand over his sockets and reach out, and there was a faint pull of the Force before he tapped a planet blindly...seeing that brief silliness was like being catapulted into the past, a shadow of his Rus lingering over this person he had become. 

Rus peeked out from between his fingers to see what he'd chosen, the emotion that crossed his face too fleeting to understand.

"ah, well, there’s an idea i hadn’t considered. i supposed it can't be worse than tatooine." Rus pushed up to his feet, stretching until his bones loudly popped. "i'll set a course and i suppose we'll see what we see."

He left Edge standing in the crew compartment. When he was gone, Edge leaned in to look at the still glowing planet.

Naiver-12.

It was one he’d heard spoken about in distasteful tones. Overrun with hoodlums and gangsters, a cesspool of violence.

Edge closed the map and went to the galley to start breakfast.

* * *

It took them three standard days to reach Naiver-12. When they did, Edge was mildly surprised to see Rus didn’t bother with any stealth. He went through the trouble of gaining landing clearance and set down in a public lot, paying the credits in advance.

Rus shut down the engines and climbed out of the pilot’s seat, heading towards the door ramp. Edge followed at his heels. Rus paused at the door, leaving it unopened as he said, “i want you to stay on the ship.”

“What? Why?” Every instinct Edge had, Force-laden or otherwise, vehemently rejected that idea. The few times they’d landed, they’d always gone together for supplies and fuel, ever since their first run-in with the bounty hunters.

Rus only looked at him; his sockets seemed more hollowed, the gauntness of his skull starker. “much as i'm enjoying rifling through the pockets of dead men for credits, a trail of bodies will eventually lead right to us. we need a fuel and safe passage, and i know someone who can get it for us.” 

“I’m coming with you.” Edge did not allow his tone to broach any argument.

“why?” Rus tilted his skull curiously. “do you want to watch?” His smile was lazy, but his eye lights were sharp, assessing. 

“Because you need a second to watch your back.” Edge was distantly impressed at the evenness in his voice.

Rus studied him, his smile falling away. “you know what i’m bartering with.”

“I do.” He did. Glimpses of memory that he didn’t look at too deeply, but he’d seen enough; Rus on his knees, the jangle of an opening belt in front of him, the turmoil in his soul, shame hidden away even from himself. Yes, he knew more than enough. 

“well, then!” Rus said cheerily. His eye lights didn’t change, cold, assessing pinpricks. “let’s be off. you never told me you wanted to watch me go down on someone else, darling. you only needed to ask nicely.”

Edge didn’t react. He couldn’t allow the emotions roiling within him freedom, he could not. But he did try to take a step back in surprise when Rus started yanking at his outer robe. “What are you doing!”

“you stink of jedi,” Rus said bluntly. He ignored Edge’s faint protests and stripped his robe away. Then he pulled off his own, swinging it around Edge’s shoulders. “perhaps this will help.”

Slowly, Edge slid his arms into the sleeves. Rus’s cloak was heavier than his own and the fabric was black. Worse was the heaviness of the intent in it; clothing could take on a person’s Force signature if it was worn long enough and this cloak was nearly dripping with Rus’s. It was like being constantly battered with a cruel wind, but Edge managed to tighten his shields until nothing was left but a faint buzzing at the back of his mind.

Rus looked at him critically then gave a short nod. “that’ll do for now. come on then, let’s have some fun!”

* * *

The entire planet was an obscenity.

From the moment they set foot on the ground, unspeakable filth clung to their boots and the grime of the city they’d come to only grew as they went deeper into it. From vendors selling dubious goods to various people selling themselves, for labor or other purposes. 

Edge tried not to look at the wrist locators embedded on most of them, a blatant mark of their servitude. He couldn’t help them. Even with all the Jedi backing him, he couldn’t have helped them, and on his own all he would manage was getting them killed. It was a bitter pill to choke down. Edge could only keep his head down and follow Rus’s feet.

Despite his manically cheerful words, Rus walked with a certain wariness in his stride, hiding beneath a false layer of careless confidence. Anyone foolish enough to believe that mask would be in for a nasty surprise. His lightsaber was not at his belt. It didn’t mean it was not within easy reach.

They walked for some time, until Rus stopped so abruptly that Edge nearly barreled into his back. His glares kept any of those on the corners selling their wares from approaching. He gave a curt gesture and Edge stepped in close, listening intently as Rus murmured, “we’re here. don’t bother with any mind tricks, they don’t work on him.”

“What makes you think he’ll help us?” Edge couldn’t help asking. He didn’t know what sort of associates Rus had, but he didn’t think any of them would fit comfortably in the role of protector. 

“because jaulo doesn’t like being told what to do. and he’s always interested in a bargain. now, follow my lead, do as i say, and keep your mouth shut.”

Edge nodded wordlessly, intent on obeying Rus’s rules to the letter. A faint smile, not a smirk, quirked the corner of Rus’s mouth and was gone in an instant. He turned away, walking into an unremarkable building with Edge at his heels. 

Inside was a small, plain room, surprisingly clean for all that the walls were starkly empty, with a curtained off area at the back. There was a Twi'lek female sitting at a desk and she looked up at them, a moue of distaste on her face. With a flick of her hand, two small cleaning droids came over and attacked their boots, and only when the filth was cleaned away did she speak. 

“Can I help you?” her accent was thick, her words dripping with doubt.

Edge didn’t recognize the language Rus spoke, but whatever he said was enough for the female’s eyes to widen. She bobbed her head in a quick bow as she stood, gesturing for them to follow. Through the curtained alcove and to a lift, where she pressed her hand and looked into a scanner before it would open. It rose swiftly and they exited into a room of such opulence it made Edge’s eye lights ache to see it.

Filled unsubtly with garish antiquities and artwork, the room screamed of an attempt to seem noble without the skill to back it. The Twi'lek urged them to sit on one of several richly brocaded sofas, then vanished through another door, returning quickly with a tea tray and a plate of dainties. 

She poured out a cup for them both, the brown liquid steaming. Rus picked one up, holding it cupped in his hands. The subtle shake of his head was almost unnoticeable, and Edge bristled at the unnecessariness of it. He might not be accustomed to these sorts of negotiations, but he was no fool; accepting a drink or food from a stranger? He may as well poison himself and save them the trouble. 

They sat there with more patience than Edge would have believed Rus still possessed. The tea was cold in their cups long before the door opened again. A tall Kajain'sa'Nikto walked in, his red skin flushed with exertion. His heavy embroidered robes were several shades darker than his skin and garish rings circled each one of his thick fingers. More bangles encircled his wrists, jangling softly with every movement. 

Behind him were two hulking Noghri bodyguards, their long fangs and claws capped in gold. 

Edge kept his distaste hidden beneath his veneer of impassiveness. The Kajain'sa'Nikto were generally a step below the Hutts in terms of corruption and villainy. Somehow, he doubted this one was the exception. Especially considering that he was willing to wear such obvious signs of wealth while surrounded by slavery and poverty.

“Look who has returned to me!” he said jovially. His beady eyes flew over them with interest and his smile was broad, filled with secret amusements. “Seeking favors again, eh, Papyrus?”

Edge forced himself not to react to that name. 

“hello, jaulo,” Rus gave him a sly smile of his own, lounging back against the sofa. Only when the Kajain'sa'Nikto leaned down to him did Rus shift gracefully away. “ah, ah, no free lunch.”

“Too true, too true,” Jaulo said mournfully. He seated himself at the other end of the sofa, to Edge’s left. With a snap of his fingers, the Twi'lek quickly reappeared to replace the cold pot of tea with a fresh one. Soon a delicate cup was pinched ridiculously in his thick fingers and Jaulo took a sip before he said, lightly, “I must say, I was surprise to hear them speaking about you so plainly on the Holonet. There’s quite a bounty on you, dearie.”

“so i’ve heard,” Rus’s expression turned to one of playful pouting, the spread of his knees carelessly widening. He propped his boot on the low table, his heel leaving a mark on the fine wood. “you couldn’t be tempted, could you? is that all that’s been between us? money?”

“Ah, no,” Jaulo chuckled. “It was never only money, was it. That would be far too simple for you.” He set the teacup down with a wincing clatter as he turned his gaze to Edge. It roved over him greedily, lingering. “And who is this you’ve brought with you? A toy to share?”

All of Rus’s lazy seduction vanished into deadly cold with disturbing swiftness. “no. he’s not. so i suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

The Noghri shifted warningly but Jaulo waved an impatient hand at them. “So defensive!” he crooned. He plucked one of the dainties from the plate, sharp teeth sinking into the crumbling crust. Teasingly, he licked the crumbs away, “All right then, enough flirting. What is it you want from me?”

“i’m looking for safe passage for us through the neutral zone.” Some of that coldness eased and Rus’s smile returned to a more winsome one. He ran his tongue lightly over his teeth, leaving them gleaming damply. “and i’m willing to pay for it.”

“Are you?” Jaulo made a thoughtful sound. He sucked on one thick finger, licking it clean before plucking up another treat. “That’s a tall order. And a dangerous one as well, so many scavengers in that sector.”

“scavengers with a debt to you,” Rus countered. “i think you could grease the path for us, if you wanted.”

“Hnnn, perhaps.” Jaulo’s curiosity seemed only mildly piqued and his voice held hints of boredom. “How do you plan on making me want? You’re a precious prize, Papyrus, but even your mouth simply isn’t worth that much.”

“i don’t think the world ‘simple’ has ever applied to me,” Rus said lazily, but he was tense, at least to Edge’s sight. This wasn’t going according to his plan. “i can offer a lot more than that.”

“So very true, you and your little mind games are a treat. But it’s a treat I’ve had before and thus, it’s lost some of its novelty. Normally, I might consider a payment plan, as it were, perhaps a holovideo or two, but if you’re planning on going through the Neutral Zone, I don’t see you returning to compensate anytime soon. This one, now.” Jaulo clicked his tongue and sighed longingly. “He’s a fresher piece and a pretty sight. Is he pretty on his knees?”

Edge sat unmoving. He could feel the hot crackle surging in the Force even as Jaulo reached out, trailing a finger along his cheekbone to the jagged crack that ran through his socket. Even through his shields, Edge could feel the heavy bloom of intent, the oily foulness of his desire.

"I know who he is, Papyrus,” Jaulo said idly, fondling his way down Edge’s jawbone. “I know who you both are. You're asking a considerable favor and he'd look pretty with a cock in his mouth. Getting sucked off by one of the last Jedi? That's a prize worth something.”

That touch drifted lower, fingering aside his tunic to trace the line of his collarbone and Edge braced himself, calling on his inner serenity; if this was necessary, he could do it. Block himself away and allow it to happen. Jedi did train for withstanding torture and this would be nothing compared to what Rus had suffered at the hands of the Sith.

He could endure this, for them. For Rus.

The bodyguards were standing there impassively, and Edge wondered distantly if they would watch. If Rus would.

He dared a glance at Rus and his expression cut through Edge’s calm. That deliberate seduction was gone, and his sockets were brimming, overflowing with hot rage. “he’s not for sale.”

“Come now, perhaps we should ask him.” Those fingers inched lower, nails scraping his sternum. “You know me, dearie, I’d make it worth your—“

Searing heat passed close enough to Edge's face to sting and suddenly Jaulo was screaming, clutching at the stump of his arm. His hand lay on the floor, the jeweled fingers twitching and the cauterized end still smoking. 

The screaming cut off abruptly as his head was severed from his neck in the same fashion with a sweep of humming red. Edge didn’t move, had no chance to even reach for his lightsaber. The world around him was a blur, his long-bottled emotions trying to struggle past his iron grip. By the time he resurfaced, the Noghri were lying dead by their master, and Rus was standing there panting heavily, lightsaber still humming in his hands and his eye lights still blazing orange.

His rage was palpable, hanging between them, thick as an uncrossable sea. Slowly, his breathing eased and Rus flicked a glance to Edge, meeting his stunned gaze.

“i warned him,” Rus said sullenly.

“You did,” Edge agreed, distantly. There was a smear of ichor on Rus’s cheekbone and as he watched, it trailed downward in a green smear. “But I would have done it.”

That dissolving rage flared again with volcanic heat. Edge didn’t resist as Rus took hold of the front of his, Rus’s, cloak, leaning down to snarl, “no, you wouldn’t. you are _mine_.”

“Yours,” Edge agreed softly. “Always yours.” Some of that rage shifted, mutating into something else entirely. Edge didn’t protest when Rus laid his hands on him, leaving bloody prints on Edge’s clothes as he pushed him down to the sofa. He only spread his legs as Rus yanked his pants down and when he buried his face between Edge’s legs, he could only whimper, choking on cries as Rus’s tongue wrung unexpected pleasure from him. 

Around them were corpses still cooling, pooling blood drying in sticky chartreuse and crimson patterns, and Edge closed his sockets to keep from seeing it, his own hands scrabbling at Rus’s skull as his tongue moved against him in clever, demanding strokes. 

His pleasure peaked and he was still riding the crest of it when Rus rose up, pushing his femurs further apart. The unexpected press of him into Edge’s body drew out another cry, not quite pained. They hadn’t done this; Rus had always been the accepting one, and he paused at Edge’s whimper, murmured low, soothing words until Edge relaxed against him, allowing him to press deeper, to take him, own him as Edge promised.

Edge could only clutch at him, whimpering and moaning at the unexpected feeling of Rus moving inside him, it was good, it was so good, to be owned, possessed, to belong to someone, to Rus. His shields were closed tight still, unable to wrench them open surrounded by death and Rus didn’t demand it. His mouth was hot on Edge’s collarbone, reversing the path of those fingers against him until he was lapping delicately at the crack in Edge’s socket in a disconcerting mixture of pain and pleasure. When he came again, Rus caught his hand to keep him from stifling his cries, forcing it up over his head. 

“no,” Rus whispered fiercely, still driving into him and each jolting thrust tore another hiccoughing cry from Edge’s throat. “let me hear you. every sound. tell me you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Edge choked out and he felt the sudden bloom of heat as Rus came inside him, felt the vibration of his groan of pleasure deep within. He sagged down, collapsing against Edge, so briefly vulnerable. Edge could only press a kiss to the top of his skull, holding him as his ragged breathing eased. 

A sudden knock at the door made Rus curse and he raised his head from Edge’s shoulder. “that was faster than i expected.”

“I’m surprised that it took that long.” Another knock and through the door, they heard the Twi'lek call her master’s name. “She isn’t going to wait long.”

“she’s not. hope it’s not ruining my reputation to say i’d rather not kill her for serving tea.” Rus shifted to his knees, pulling out, and Edge grimaced at the sudden flood of wetness down his femurs. He pulled up his trousers anyway, buckling his belt as he followed Rus to the window. 

They both looked down. The ground was very far away.

Rus grinned at him, his eye lights dancing. “How are your reflexes?”

Instead of answering, Edge gathered the Force to him and jumped.

He landed lightly, two slaves standing idly on the sidewalk shrieking in surprise and dashing away. A moment later, Rus landed next to him, and he took Edge by the arm, pulling him along. 

He had no idea how they were going to escape this planet, did not know Rus’s plans, if he even had one. Edge followed him anyway, allowing Rus to choose their path. 

He’d made his own choice weeks ago, and it was Rus. Wherever he led, Edge would follow. 

-finis-


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for your comments and interest in this series! I know I have a bunch to reply to yet but I wanted to say how much I appreciate them!
> 
> (Not that it’s a series. Nope. This is a one-shot and I will defend that with my dying breath!)

* * *

The streets of the port town of Naiver-12 were still crowded; no one attempted to stop the two of them as they hurried along the crumbling roads, filth once again coating their boots.

Once the Twi'lek raised an alarm, Edge didn’t expect that to last. There might not be an Imperial security presence on this planet but surely Jaulo had his own aside from the dead bodyguards. They would be none too pleased to learn of his demise.

A flicker of warning came through the Force and Edge grabbed Rus’s arm, pulling him into an alley. He resisted briefly in surprise, but then sank quickly back into the shadows as he looked out with narrowed sockets.

Heavy footsteps walked passed them and familiar white armor gleamed in the garish street lamps, giving lie to Edge’s assumption that there was no Imperial presence here.

“clone troopers?” Rus whispered. He sounded more insulted than concerned, his words sharp with indignation. “he sent clone troopers after me?”

“They’re effective.” And they were many. It sounded like an entire garrison marching past them. 

“only when shooting unsuspecting allies in the back,” Rus muttered. His eye lights glowed fiercely in the dim alleyway. “and they don’t carry any credits. useless. we’re going to need a new ship.”

Edge balked at that, blurting out, “My cloak is on that ship.” 

The absurdity only struck him after he said it, but it was one of the only possessions he had left.

“your cloak,” Rus repeated slowly. He looked back over his shoulder at Edge in disbelief. Then he giggled madly, eye lights dancing. “then by all means, let’s go back for your cloak.”

Laughter of his own rose in response and Edge couldn’t stop it. He tried muffling his hysteria in his hands, uselessly, it was all too much. Rus was fresh from murdering the person Edge had been ready to prostitute himself to and they were about to head back to their stolen ship because his cloak was there, and it wasn’t funny, except it was. It was _hilarious_.

He broke off when Rus suddenly pushed him to his knees, Edge’s face abruptly pressed smotheringly close to the front of his trousers by a hand on the back of his skull. For a disoriented moment he thought Rus was demanding what Jaulo had desired, but before he could decide what to do about that, Rus let out a throaty moan, his hips moving slightly.

“that’s it, whore, take it,” he grunted and only then did Edge register another presence at the mouth of the alley, gleaned their skittering curiosity and rising arousal. Rus kept grunting above him, mimicking, and finally he turned to snarl,“fuck off, this isn’t a free show.”

That presence moved away but before Rus could turn back to him, Edge lifted shaky hands to his hips, pressing a kiss to the hard curve of his pubic symphysis through the thin material of his trousers.

He felt Rus gasp, felt heat and hardness rising beneath his teeth before Rus yanked him back to his feet. 

“not here,” he ground out. But his eye lights blazed with want and he didn’t let go of Edge’s arm, crowding him against the crumbling bricks behind them. Rus set his hands against the wall on either side of him, bones scraping faintly. He was the taller of the two of them and never had Edge felt the difference in their height so keenly as standing there with Rus staring fiercely down at him, his eye lights as brilliant orange as a flame.

This was utter madness; clone troopers were roaming the streets looking for them along with any of the departed Jaulo’s remaining hired thugs. People intent on revenge and death. Edge was still filthy, the evidence of their last tryst still staining his femurs, and he only looked at Rus with need clawing at his soul, whispering , “I can. I will.”

“you can and you will later,” Rus snapped. One long skeletal finger traced gently down the crack in Edge’s skull. He closed his sockets and breathed against the entwined pain and pleasure as Rus told him fiercely. “no one gets to see you on your knees but me. let’s go.”

Those words burned in his soul and Edge followed him.

It was both remarkably easy and emotionally painful to make their way unseen through the port. Keeping to the rooftops as much as they could, a little misdirection, a gesture to turn the attention of a weaker mind to another path. It brought back long ago memories of doing the same on other missions, a pair of Jedi ghosting away, seen only if they wished it. It was a skill of both Jedi and Sith, for entirely different reasons. 

They came to the ship lot quickly enough and Rus crouched by the plasticrete fencing it, considering.

“they won’t have had time to refuel it yet,” Rus muttered. “and that ship barely has enough to get us to another solar system.”

“I worked hard on that ship.” And Edge didn’t want another death on their hands, not until the blood already on them had a chance to dry.

“that doesn’t mean much if we end up stranded without a life support system.” Rus caught sight of something outside Edge’s line of vision, sockets narrowing, and then he smiled suddenly. “hm. planning didn’t work so well for us, let’s see how winging it does.”

Yes, because letting Rus handle things had worked out so well for them thus far. “The Force can guide us.”

Rus made a low sound of scorn. “the force doesn’t guide me, jedi, i guide it. but this’ll do. wait here.”

Rus darted off with a gesture at Edge to stay put. Shouting after him would be markedly stupid, but Edge allowed Rus to feel his displeasure through their bond, another callback to days long past. To feel a pulse of giddy amusement back was wonderful and terrible, only tinged with madness, almost, almost his Rus.

He watched Rus’s shadowed form move through the shipyard, realizing too late that he was headed for an elderly uniformed Sluissi slithering along. There was a flare of red, a lightsaber on a short burn held up to their throat while Rus caught them up from behind.

Soul pounding with dread, Edge focused on listening in time to hear Rus growl to the Sluissi, “…so you can either take this, fill up that ship with fuel and have a tidy sum at the end, or i can kill you now and risk leaving with the fuel i have.” 

Dangling between two fingers, Rus held up a ring with a large, garish stone and Edge belatedly recognized it as one of Jaulo’s.

True to their species, the old Sluissi didn’t even flinch from the saber burning close to his skin. They gave the ring an assessing look and snatched it away, stuffing it into a pocket. When Rus let them go, they slithered unhurriedly over to their ship and with a snap of their fingers a pack of droids carrying long hoses skittered to their tail and began swarming the ship. 

Rus turned to him and wagged a finger in a ‘come hither’ gesture and Edge did, warily. It was difficult to hide his relief that Rus hadn’t simply killed the Sluissi, and from Rus’s smugness, Edge doubted he managed. “That was your plan?”

“no, that was winging it,” Rus said cheerily. “you just need to know how to talk to people.”

“When did you even have time to steal that?” Between the sex and them jumping from the window, there was very little leeway for petty theft.

“i had a few moments while you were careening towards the ground. i took a chance that you wouldn’t need me to catch you and look, it worked out for the best!”

At that moment, a hail of blaster fire fell over them and there was no more time for talking, not with a garrison of shouting clone troopers surrounding them. In seconds, both their lightsabers were blazing, returning the shots to their origins and shouting turned to screams.

So much for waiting on the blood to dry. By the end of this day, they would be bathed in it.

Rus might no longer believe the Force guided him, but Edge was more than willing to hand his fate over. He was doing a terrible job on his own.

-finis-


	10. Chapter 10

 

* * *

By the time their ship hit hyperspace, Edge’s brief hope that there would be no further deaths was utterly shattered, but any regret was lost to bitter gratification. It was all too likely that those clone troopers were stained with the blood of many Jedi, shot in the back by troops they’d trusted.

Edge’s calm was fractured, crumbling, disturbed by his grim satisfaction even as he basked in it. With shaky care he pushed his emotions down, breathing slowly and reaching out to the Force to settle himself.

For one split-second, he couldn’t touch it. His grasp on the Force wavered and the unfamiliar sense of fear was overwhelming. Then it slid into his mental grasp as easily as it always had, flowing through him, settling him. When he opened his sockets again, his control was firm and his emotions sorted through and cast aside. He was Jedi, he was calm.

Next to him in the pilot’s seat, Rus was still on the navigation computer, likely calculating their next jump. One of his sleeves was torn and through it Edge could see damaged bone, redness dripping from the wound, slow droplets pattering to the deck floor. 

"Let me see." Edge reached out, pausing when Rus jerked away from him.  
   
"don't," Rus said, shortly. His attention was still on the nav-computer. "it will heal on its own."  
   
Possibly, but to sit there and allow an open wound to bleed was madness. That it was even still bleeding was a concern, Rus should have…

…ah. 

It shouldn’t hurt to realize that Rus could no longer heal himself, Edge should have known. Force healing required a certain level of serenity that he doubted the roiling anger and darkness in Rus’s soul allowed. But Edge could speed the healing for him, if Rus wasn’t going to be stubborn about it.  
   
“Let me help,” Edge tried again. He didn’t try to touch and Force-persuasion would be useless, but he could try reason. "If we're attacked again, you won't be able to lift your arm over your head."  
   
Rus only sent a black look his way. “what, can't protect me for a few days, jedi? we'll be in space, who the fuck are we going to be fighting? let me top for a couple nights and it'll be fine.”

That prickled at his temper, that deliberate vulgarity a petty attempt to put him off. He tamped back the sparks of irritation. If reason was useless, there were other means. 

Edge reached over and pressed the wound with his thumb, hard enough to break through a pain block. His success was obvious in Rus’s squeal and for a moment, he honestly expected Rus to strike him, fury boiling through the air between them.

He waited for that simmering anger to fade back, then asked coolly, “Do you really think waiting for it to heal on its own is a good idea?”

No reply and his hopes sank. Rus has proven in the past that he could go days between speaking. If Edge pushed him too hard, he would simply slip into his own thoughts and that was worse, so much worse than being alone.

A little desperately, Edge interjected lightness into his voice and said, “If you're not going to let me heal it, would you at least put a little pressure on it? Because you're getting marrow everywhere and I can't see you scrubbing the floor clean.”  
   
To his relief, Rus looked at his arm with a frown. He seemed honestly surprised, which meant he'd been blocking the pain so completely he wasn't even aware it was still bleeding. He pulled a cloth from a belt pouch and bound it quickly, though to Edge’s eye lights, that was a stopgap measure at best.  
   
“If you won’t let me heal you, will you meditate with me at least?” Edge tried. His willingness to allow Rus his autonomy was thin in this case. A bad wound could lead to loss of use, or even the entire arm. “You can focus your own energy towards healing it quicker. The next planet we land on, we can see about trading for some bacta wraps."  
   
He expected Rus to refuse and could hardly mask his surprise when he only shrugged. "if you want."  
   
"I do want."

Then Rus unexpectedly spun the pilot’s chair towards Edge, letting his knees fall apart as he cupped his crotch obscenely in one hand. His smirk was cold, calculating. “suck me off first and it’s a deal.”

Edge sat in the co-pilot seat, distantly wondering at the pang in his soul. They weren’t like this, they weren’t, it wasn’t like this. He ignored that dim pain, asking coolly, “Planning to make me a whore after all?”

A fleeting emotion crossed Rus’s face, almost hurt, extinguishing the icy manipulation before settling on blandness. “no. i’m calling in your offer from earlier. are you a liar, then?”

Foolish to feel relief at that, that Rus wasn’t truly bartering, that it was only a cruel tease. What was between them was perhaps terrible, battering often at his soul. But it was not that. 

Edge slid to to deck floor, bridged the distance between them and reached for Rus’s belt with trembling fingers. Rus didn’t move, watching with lazy disinterest, his finger bones drumming idly on the chair arm as Edge opened his trousers.

The hot, hard length beneath Edge’s hands betrayed his true emotions, as well as his sharp inhale as Edge lowered his skull, hesitantly pressing a kiss against the slick tip.

“get on with it,” Rus ground out. There wasn’t a hint of disinterest in him now, breathing heavily and groaning as Edge obeyed him.

He’d never done this, not in any of his brief trysts before Rus and he felt clumsy, ill-prepared for the choking feel in his throat, the heavy glide across his tongue. He flinched as hands settled at his jaw but they were gentle, changing the angle of his skull, making it easier to endure.

Rus raised his hips, rolling them with gentle care as he thrust between Edge’s teeth. Edge only knelt there and let Rus have him, breathing in deeply on each withdrawal, exhaling on the next inward press. He couldn’t say when the turn happened, when he changed from enduring to enjoyment, thrilling at Rus’s low groans, at his trembling, the unexpected tenderness in his hands as they guided him. Edge couldn’t hold back a shaky moan, felt Rus jerk at the unexpected vibration, and he only wanted more.

Soon enough those thrusts quickened, Rus’s femurs quivering beneath his hands and those hands didn’t hold him down, didn’t force him, only cradled his jaw in trembling reverence as he swallowed against the sudden flood of wet heat at the back of his formed throat.

With a cough, Edge sank back on his heels, looking up at Rus. Who was sprawled out in the chair, his own sockets closed as he panted heavily.

His own desire was muted, distant, satisfied in seeing Rus so disassembled.

“Come meditate with me now,” Edge said, and there was a certain used rasp in his voice, thick and glottal.

Slowly, Rus’s sockets opened and he looked down at Edge, his eye lights unreadable. He stood abruptly, forcing Edge to scramble back as he fastened his trousers. “let’s get this over with.”  
 

* * *

Few would have noticed the way Rus's expression tightened when he stripped off his outer robes, leaving on only a light undershirt and trousers as he sank down to kneel on the floor. This was bothering him more than he was letting on.

Edge had no doubt that he'd suppressed far worse pain and for much too long, but couldn't help his exasperation. There was no point and if Rus was incapable of focusing on healing, then Edge could do it for him.  
   
How could Rus trust him with his body and soul, but not to help him? But then, perhaps trust was the wrong word. Trust was in the past, left behind years ago at the Jedi temple with his old lightsaber and the intimacy of allowing someone else to alter bodily functions was deeper than allowing access to memories. Memories couldn’t be changed, bent to someone else’s will.

Perhaps Edge understood more than he wished.

Edge stripped off his own, Rus’s, cloak and knelt next to him, and for all that he’d been struggling with his meditations as of late, today it was easy to sink into the mindset, to feel across their reluctantly opened bond to find Rus’s psyche. It was curled up like a scorpion, ready to lash out, and Edge only projected gentle calm, soothing, a promise to ease the pain, to help, not hurt.

Painfully slowly, he responded, opening up to him enough for Edge settle into him, with the comfortable familiarity of putting on a glove. Carefully, Edge guided him to help his body stopping the bleeding. Slowly, so slowly, it eased off, then stopped as their combined efforts pushed healing against it. It wasn’t enough, the wound was still there, and Edge gathered his strength, ready to guide Rus once again. Only to find his mental touch dwindling, fading.  
   
A light weight all along his side drew Edge from the depths of their minds and he opened his sockets, staring nonplussed at the sight of Rus sagging against him, asleep.  
   
And in that moment with Rus sleeping and vulnerable, Edge was so tempted to simply heal the wound himself. It would be terribly easy, all his focus was already on healing, and Rus likely wouldn’t even feel it, wouldn’t know until he woke. That temptation hung within reach, pretty as a poisoned apple, for far too long before Edge reeled back, horrified that he would even consider doing anything against someone else's will, even if it would help him.  
   
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he shifted until he could gingerly lift Rus into his arms. He’d always been lighter despite his height, falling limply against Edge. He didn’t stir as he was carried to their shared bed, not until Edge carefully settled him on the blankets.

Before he could pull away, a hand caught his sleeve, the bones grimy with his own marrow, his hand wraps stained with it.

Softly, Rus slurred out, “don’t go.”  
   
Barely even audible, but he said it.

Edge said nothing, only finished settling him on the bed before laying next to him. He hardly dared to breathe as Rus shifted to curl up against him, resting his skull atop Edge’s ribcage, over his soul.

He lay awake, feeling Rus breathing next to him. 

There were no nightmares that night.

-finis-


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for what starts as hate-sex and turns into...well, something not so terrible. All previous warnings apply.

 

* * *

In the days following their shared meditation, Rus was more distant than ever. Small as their ship was, Rus somehow managed to keep out of Edge’s sight. Meals Edge ate alone, leaving enough for Rus, and the empty plates were at least proof of his continued existence. Only at night did Rus join him, offering sex and sleeping restlessly, and while his body and mind were splayed open to Edge, somehow, he remained untouchable.

That distance was difficult to endure. His entire life he’d felt connected to the Jedi through the Force, bonded to them, and those he was closest to were only ever a thought away. Now, here in this empty ship, he was met only by memories, some that weren’t even his own. Edge was alone and worse still, he was lonely. 

It filled him with a sort of low desperation, needing something to do. He was no pilot or mechanic; that he was forced to leave with Rus and the maintenance droids. Their steadily dwindling supplies left him with little to do in the galley.

There was nothing for him but to wait to see where this ship would take them next. 

The Jedi long understood that loneliness was deadly to the psyche; it was why Knights were often paired, why Masters chose new Padawans quickly after their old ones passed their trials.

Edge never took another partner after Rus left. He’d worked alone or with other solo knights, ignoring the well-meaning advice of others encouraging him to move on, to take an apprentice of his own. He never had, and loneliness he understood, had endured before. But to have Rus so close to him now, and yet…

Unendurable, but he did. There was nothing else Edge could do.

After another morning meal on his own, Edge left a covered plate for Rus and went out to the crew compartment. His lightsaber could use some basic upkeep and the holotable had good light.

Edge spread out a soft cloth on the table and set his lightsaber on top of it. Carefully, he opened the panel in the handle and removed the crystal. It was warm in his hand, resonating with his Force signature. Imbued years ago when he’d only been an initiate, long days of meditation to link it to the Force. Rus had been at his his side with his own then, a rich green to contrast with Edge’s blue.

A touch of prescience made him look up at the same moment Rus filled the doorway. His expression was cool, impassive, watching him. 

Edge only continued on, checking the crystal for any stress cracks before replacing it. Making sure everything was clean and in order before reassembling it. He’d done this hundreds of time before, his fingers moved with almost unconscious skill. 

“You watched me the first time, too, when I made this,” Edge said quietly. Back in the crèche, every initiate designed and built their own lightsaber and only then could they wield one. It was proof not only that they understood the workings, but it showed the Masters of their commitment to the Jedi. Making a saber by their own hand demanded more respect than one given. He and Rus had worked hard to be chosen as Padawans and Edge couldn’t guess at what design in the Force made a pair of partnered Knights choose them. They’d always been together, always, until that one kiss severed them. 

“i did,” Rus agreed. His voice and his eye lights were ice, wintry cold. His hand settled lightly on the saber at his hip, his long, bone fingers trailing over it. “and my master watched me make this one.”

“He’s not your Master.” It was a mistake to say it, Edge knew, but he couldn’t hold back the words, battling the ache in his soul that demanded they be spoken. To remember Rus’s nimble fingers all those years ago, making his first lightsaber, and to know that years later he’d done it again, proof of his commitment to the Sith. So many things Edge needed to endure and it was a wonder his soul could bear it.

“no?” His laughter was ugly, an open wound even as it wounded in turn. “saying it doesn’t make it true, jedi. do you think i didn’t try to resist, is that it?”

“No.”

“that i gave in too easily? ah, but you’ve heard the call of the dark side yourself, haven’t you? From time to time.” Rus stepped closer and his dark amusement was a force of its own, barely concealing his endless rage. “whispering to you that if you give in, the pain will stop.”

“But it didn’t stop,” Edge whispered helplessly, because he knew the truth, couldn’t help knowing with Rus spilling his memories into him every night. “It never did.”

In an instant, Rus pinned him back against the table, his eye lights blazing. Knocked from his hand, his lightsaber rolled across the smooth surface. It stilled before it fell over the edge, wobbling as it was force-held, then pulled back into Rus’s hand. 

“you’ll need to take better care of that, jedi,” Rus said, mockingly disapproving. He balanced it in his palm carelessly, as though weighing it. “crystals will be hard to come by outside of the temple…ah, well, i suppose they’ll simply be hard to come by anywhere, anymore.”

“Don’t,” Edge whispered. But he didn’t try to draw away. He lay still as Rus set his his lightsaber aside, the nimble fingers of his memories moving to rid him of his clothes. Until he was bare against the cold table and Rus loomed over him.

“don’t what?” Rus crooned. His hands were between Edge’s legs, working his slick pseudo-flesh with brisk, clever movements. “what exactly do you want me to stop? tell me, i might listen.”

_Don’t make me remember, don’t mock me, don’t_

“Please don’t hurt me,” Edge whispered. He didn’t deserve to ask and couldn’t stop himself.

Rus went still. 

“i…” he swallowed hard, his eye lights shrinking to pinpricks. His hands were still on Edge, unmoving. “i wasn’t—"

He was, they both knew he was, and Edge deserved it, every bitter word, for abandoning him, for allowing the Sith to not only take him but keep him. He deserved this punishment, and yet. 

Edge rolled his hips into Rus’s touch, and he did want this, wanted Rus no matter how broken, how shattered.

Slowly, Rus’s hands came to life on him again, oddly gentle, almost tender. 

Edge moved restlessly. He didn’t want this tenderness, this care, he wanted, no, he _needed—_

“Don’t,” Edge tried again, that single word cracking, splitting down the middle. 

“hush,” Rus told him sternly. He slid down between Edge’s thighs, his thumbs gently stroking the insides of his femurs. The delicate touch of his tongue made Edge cry out, sliding slickly against him and the sides of the table cut into his hands as he gripped it. 

He stared unblinking at the ceiling, at the crisscrossed wires and maintenance panels, until his sockets were aching and dry while Rus coaxed him to pleasure, drawing it out like a blade. Until he was lifting his hips into it, trying to grind against his face, begging wordlessly, but not soundlessly, whimpers and cries escaping him in a steady stream.

The crest of his orgasm was bittersweet, both the culmination and the end of that tenderness. Edge closed his sockets as he panted, the hands holding his pelvis drawing away.

“there,” Rus said, unsteadily. He tried to step back, only to stagger a step forward, caught, when Edge wound his legs around him, holding him in. 

“No, don’t leave me, don’t,” he begged and if there was shame, he was past feeling it. 

“edge, don’t—” Rus tried to pull away and the sanity in his eye lights was almost as disturbing as the frequent hints of madness. Whatever his resistance, it was cobweb-thin, and Edge didn’t think about how easily his control broke these days. Rus gave in, sinking down against Edge. Allowed him to scrabble between them at his belt, until his clothes were open. 

He shuddered at the feel of Edge’s hands on him, gripping and stroking, and his tongue was against Edge’s, sharing his own taste. Clumsily, Edge guided him, sucking in a sharp breath as Rus pushed urgently into him.

It dredged up a spark of pleasure, a shivering aftershock as Rus thrust, quivering through him even as Rus quickly stilled inside him, his groan of completion caught between their teeth.

His weight sagged down on Edge, but he hardly noticed it. Not asleep so much as bordering on unconscious, his nights of sleeplessness finally overwhelming him, and Edge gave in gratefully.

When he woke again, he was alone in their shared room. 

“Lights,” Edge called wearily, and they came up with daytime brilliance, confirming that it was still ship’s day. Still time to see what he could do for an afternoon meal.

He started to roll to his feet and paused. His lightsaber was sitting on the side table, polished to a gleaming shine, and he had no doubt that whatever maintenance left to be done was finished.

The crystal imbedded in the hilt was imbued with his own Force-signature alone, untouched by another since the day he’d chosen it. It was fanciful to imagine he could feel the ghost of Rus’s touch. 

He held it for a long moment anyway before dressing and clipping it to his belt on his way out the door, headed for the galley.

* * *

Their stolen ship was a cargo vessel, complete with several crew compartments and a large hold. During the long days, Edge searched through most of it. His loneliness aside, even Jedi weren’t immune to the boredom of space travel. 

There wasn’t much to find. Most of the compartments seemed as though they’d never been used. The ship’s previous owner probably hadn’t used much crew to control his living cargo, likely depending on battle droids to keep the slaves in line. 

Aside from his damaged puzzle, entertainment was thin. Most of the ship’s library consisted of tech manuals and while Rus surely found them entertaining, Edge did not. A few games were on the ship’s holotable, chess and even dejarik which was a rare find outside of a Jedi Temple. Both were dull without a partner to play with and the ship’s computer had no personality to speak of.

That left Edge to his goal for today, to search the ship for hidden compartments. A captain who was willing to transport such illicit cargo as slaves might well try for worse and in his boredom, curiosity had the best of him. It occurred to him that it was possible there were smuggling compartments aboard and while Edge had no interest in joining the ranks of smugglers, perhaps there would be something they could sell to bolster their dwindling credits. 

The hold revealed nothing to his search, but that was no surprise. It would be a poor choice for concealment if the ship were ever chosen for a customs search. 

One of the corridors proved more fruitful. His handscanner revealed nothing but Edge closed his sockets, reaching for the Force. It centered on one of the panels that wriggled with a slight touch. A moment of searching to discover a latch and Edge pried the floor panel up, curiosity blooming. 

To his disappointment, the hidden compartment was empty. Whatever the former captain had been hiding was long sold and gone, and—wait.

The compartment was not sealed, lined with maintenance panels, nooks and crannies filled with wires, but it wasn’t those that caught his attention. It was the flash of an odd colored light, not the yellow and red of the ship’s controls used, but a muted blue and white. Gone in a flash, and perhaps a faint whirr or beep.

Hm.

Carefully, Edge climbed into the compartment, sitting cross-legged on the floor. There was a lingering smell, something sour and likely illicit. Edge waited patiently, keeping still and unthreatening.

It took some time, but he had nowhere better to be. His patience was rewarded with the return of those lights and a pair of optics peeking out from one of the panels, the lenses telescoping open and shut in a robotic blink.

"Hello, little one," Edge murmured. It flinched at the sound of his voice and there was a clatter as it scrambled away. Once again, Edge waited, though not as long this time. A droid with any sort of higher artificial intelligence would be curious by their very design and this one proved it by returning, again peering out at him.

“You can come out,” Edge told it reassuringly. “I won’t hurt you.” 

There was no sign that the droid believed him, but at least it had been programmed to understand Galactic Basic. A good thing, since Edge was never able to manage droidspeak code. It chirped, hopping lightly into the compartment and gave Edge his first real look at it.

It was small, likely it wouldn’t even reach to his knee, and bipedal, unusual for a ship’s droid which meant it had a different function than simple maintenance or cleaning. The optics were oversized for its body, a style that most sentients would find cute, reminiscent of a child or pet. From its appearance, it was probably some sort of companion droid and if it had been trapped in this compartment for any length of time, it was surely lonely.

At least they had one thing in common.

His theory seemed proven as the little droid crept closer, one wary step at a time, its optics fixed on Edge as it tipped its head this way and that to get a full visual of him.

“That’s it,” Edge coaxed. It stopped at his voice, skittering a step back, but rallied quickly, until it was standing in front of his crossed legs. “And what's your name?" 

Obediently, the little droid turned with a chirp to show his designation. "BD-7, is it. All right, BD-7, my name is Edge, and if you want, I can get you out of this smelly compartment and into the ship proper.”

Before he even finished speaking, the droid leapt lightly onto his arm, scrambling up to sit on his shoulder. The sounds it made were closer to a purr, excited whirrs of delight.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Edge said dryly. 

Rising to his feet, Edge jumped easily from the compartment, wincing a bit at the delighted squeal so close to his auditory canal. He turned to replace the concealing panels, only to freeze at the voice that spoke behind him.

“is that a bd droid?" Rus asked. He stood in the doorway, stripped down to a thin undertunic overtop his trousers, and from the spots of grease on his bones, he’d been doing some repairs. He looked at droid with mild intrigue, taking in details that Edge surely missed. He’d always been the more mechanically inclined one. 

"It would seem so." Edge resisted the urge to pull the little droid into his arms. Rus had proven to be violent on occasion, but not overwhelmingly destructive. 

He tried not to think of the broken puzzle, the pieces repaired, but still imperfect.

Rus hummed thoughtfully, stepping closer for a better look. "these were a prototype, the company that produced them never went into full manufacturing. they were meant as a companion for explorers, i believe. i’ve only ever seen one other, and it sold for a pretty penny at auction. probably—ouch!"

He jerked his hand back, scowling as he looked at the small scorch mark where BD-7 had jabbed him with a tiny welding torch, extended out on a mechanical arm.

“BD-7!" Edge hissed, horrified.

But the droid only chirped threateningly, that arm with its lit torch waving furiously at Rus.

Whose eye lights were bright and angry, raw with fury. But to Edge’s surprise, that anger faded into something like bemusement. "hm, yeah, that was part of their sub-programming. loyal little shits. seems like its taken a shine to you.” His mouth twitched up nearly into a smile. “has quite a language module, too.” He wagged a scolding finger at BD-7. “if he could understand you and if you had a mouth, he’d wash it out with soap, pet.”

Edge said nothing and whatever BD-7 chirped only made Rus’s grin widen. Rus pointed at him, keeping well away from that threatening arm. "it stays out of the bedroom."

"Of course." The sudden relief was dizzying. A prototype droid, worth plenty of credits, credits that they needed…and it seemed it was his for the time being. Rus turned on his heel and walked away, absently shaking his hand, and Edge could breathe again.

“Well,” he started slowly, turning his skull to look at the droid, who beeped inquisitively. “Are you any good at dejarik?”

A happy, affirmative chirp made Edge smile.

* * *

Despite its mournful wails, Edge was firm that night when it came to bedtime. Rus’s edict that BD-7 be kept out of the bedroom was not one wanted to test. 

The little droid sullenly returned to the crew compartment at his order and it was difficult to hold back a smile at its downtrodden trudge away from their quarters.

Well, he could certainly have done worse in a daytime companion. Delightfully cheery and rather good at chess, it turned out. All Edge had left to do on this day was wait for his nighttime one.

Edge stripped off his robes, kneeling bare on the floor as he settled into his nightly meditation. He kept his Force-touch close, intimate rather than reaching out, and today it seemed easier, reflecting his mood. A day in the presence of a cheerful little droid seemed to ease his state of mind, a bit.

The door opening broke through his meditation, severing his Force-connection. He tensed, sockets still closed as he readying himself for a jibe.

Footsteps close to him, soft and bare, and cool fingertips trailed along the line of his shoulder, lingering at his cervical vertebrae. 

“come to bed,” Rus murmured, and the coaxing tone reminded Edge of his own earlier that day, persuading BD-7 to come to him. He obeyed it as readily as the little droid had, levering himself to his feet and when he pushed Rus down to the bed, moving to settle between his legs, Rus only pulled him closer, a low moan already escaping him.

Edge opened the bond between them, clinging to his hard-earned serenity as he embraced the savage emotions that always stormed inside Rus. They never settled, never stopped, but today they eased a fraction at his mind-touch, skittishly allowing him to wrap his thoughts around Rus’s. 

Inside him as he was, physically and mentally, Edge couldn’t resist the urge to send a faint pulse of love through their bond. The emotion was not borne of the Jedi, but Edge no longer attempted to deny it. The Jedi were gone and Rus was not.

Unexpectedly, that weak pulse drew a ragged cry from Rus, giddy elation filling Edge as it wasn’t outright rejected. He let it strengthen, only a little, a trickle rather than a flow and it was enough.

Physical pleasure was distant companion to the mental, even as they shuddered together, their bodies finding completion. It was only when Rus was weak and trembling beneath him, his breathing close to a sob, that Edge reluctantly withdrew from his mind.

 _Love_ , he sent in the last moment of their mental touch, cautiously, and there was no response. 

But nor was it flung away.

Hours later Edge was woken by Rus’s screams. His struggles were feeble for once, without his darkened Force-touch, only thrashing uselessly like a terrified child. Edge pulled him close, holding him in spite of his flailing limbs as he screamed himself hoarse, the sound fading but his face still twisted in a rictus of fear.

Edge could only hold him, murmuring useless words of comfort, opening their bond even as he braced for Rus to fall gracelessly into his mind. But he never reached out, his shields seamlessly tight. 

The silent screams finally ceased and Rus fell into an uneasy sleep, twitching as an addict detoxing from death sticks might.

Another sleepless night, then. Edge tucked Rus against his side as he settled in, ready to watch over him.

A crèche song came to him, and Edge hummed softly, almost beneath his breath. Slowly, Rus’s trembling eased and if his dreams were not sweet, at least they didn’t torment him again that night. 

-finis-


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

The mines were never empty.

No matter the hour, whether or not the dual suns were in the skies, there were workers of any species in the long tunnels that snaked beneath the ground. Digging for the rich dorium ore, alone or in groups, working as many or as few hours as they cared. All that mattered to the Company was the amount of ore they brought in and each worker took company credit for their pay.

It was accepted for goods in the little mining town and no other place in the galaxy, keeping them trapped by their own funds on this desolate planet. That and the stims they could purchase with their credits and when a worker fell in one of the dank tunnels, sickened from breathing in the ore dust or simply dead, there would be a mad scramble for their half-filled bucket.

And the cycle continued.

One worker, a Kel Dor by their distinctive breathing apparatus and face mask, worked long hours every day, filling only slightly more buckets of ore as any other. 

They worked alone and the thugs that preyed on the solo workers followed them the first few days, eager for a fresh victim. 

Only to halt in confusion as they seemed to vanish within the depths of the mine, leaving the would-be thieves to fight amongst themselves over who allowed them to get away.

Two days after their arrival, something happened within the gangs, a bloody affair spoken of in whispers, and no further attempts were made to follow them. They were left alone to fill their buckets, hours of backbreaking work for a pittance and if they were given an extra credit or two at the ore exchange, no one stood close enough to notice a subtle flick of a hand or a low, persuasive murmur through the voice synth.

The mining town was in truth little more than a few rows of shanties manned by rotten-tooth proprietors selling cheap goods and stims. They came out only to shriek at any miner who collapsed by their shack, kicking them vigorously and spitting curses. Until the unfortunate either stumbled out of the way of their ire or were otherwise dragged away by the stoic cleaners, their bodies cast into one of the large, open pits scattered across the wasteland. 

The Kel Dor stopped at one of the food stalls, using their credits to purchase a few containers of greasy noodles and packages of the thin, bland nutritional wafers. Another stall sold them a few jogan fruits with only a few dark places softened with rot. 

Normally the Kel Dor would set their packages into a rucksack and be on their way with that, but this day they paused, considering. Finally, they made a last purchase, a small grease-spotted box that they added to the rest.

No one paid them any mind. Most of the others were scurrying to purchase their daily stims and food was an afterthought. All of them scrawny, skeletal beings who would be replaced by others who looked the same, an endless line of spiritual twins who would mine the ore till death replaced them with the next.

The Kel Dor went past them, the huddled groups already sagging to the ground in chemical bliss. They walked out of town to the dusty outskirts where few lived. On a rickety rack, a speeder was locked into place along with sparse collection of other vehicles and any brave enough to lay a hand on it earned a nasty shock for their trouble. 

The Kel Dor straddled it without concern, shifting to guide it over the cracked, parched ground out into the wastelands.

When they were out of view of the ramshackle town, a small droid wriggled free of a side pouch, chirping happily as it clambered up to nestle into the rider’s lap.

The droid earned a gentle pat for the effort, and they rode on with only the roaring motor breaking the silence. 

The first sun was creasing the horizon when the ship came into view. They pulled up next to it, parking the speeder within the protection grid before the Kel Dor stripped off the respirator, peeling away the mask to breathe in great gulps of sweltering air.

Edge wiped wearily at his sweaty skull despite the filth of his gloves. The arid climate was all the more unpleasant for having to wear a disguise, but it worked well enough. 

Plenty of species needed a breathing apparatus in different environments. No one had given him a second glance here past gauging how easily he would be robbed, and those looks had been easily dissuaded with a little subterfuge and Force persuasion.

He gathered up the day’s supplies along with the sweaty mask and started for the boarding ramp.

“Shall we join Rus for dinner?” Edge asked, pausing to allow BD-7 a chance to scramble up and sit on his shoulder.

It made a rude sound at that and Edge struggled not to laugh, if only to keep from encouraging it. The little droid hadn't grown any fonder of Rus over the weeks they’d been here and took any opportunity it could to lay siege on his ankles. Rus’s boots were covered in a fine collection of little scuffs and no amount of Edge’s scolding could convince BD to stop.

For some reason, Rus found this hilarious, never lashing out at the little droid. Small, strange things could spark his temper, but always he nudged the little droid aside without leaving so much as a scratch, striding away from the string of chirping abuse that BD-7 hurled at him daily with nothing more than a chuckle. 

That odd acceptance wasn’t enough for Edge to trust them alone while he worked. BD-7 always traveled with him during the day, keeping guard over their vehicle while Edge gathered enough ore for the credits they needed.

It was exhausting work even with a judicious use of Force, but physical labor Edge could manage. If the credits were barely a quarter of what a laborer would earn on a civilized planet, they were in no position to negotiate. What was more difficult was walking past the other miners, feeling the aura of death around them, their lives leeching away in hard work and an endless cloud of mind-fogging drugs.

He couldn’t help them. Even if Edge spent all his hard-earned credits on extra food, they wouldn’t accept it, slapping away a generous hand if it wasn’t holding out a stim. 

All he could do was earn enough to keep them in meals and fuel. His work at least gave them an appearance of legitimacy, for whatever it was Rus was doing in the late hours certainly was not.

Most nights after their evening meal was shared, Rus would take the respirator and speeder, heading out to earn credits his own way.

Not sex, Edge didn’t think. Rus came back to him bearing no unusual bruises, and always with republic credits rather than company ones, adding them to their stash.

He didn’t ask how Rus was earning credits. Better, perhaps, not to know when he unable to claim Rus, at least not the way he did Edge. 

Love, Edge could allow, offering it for Rus to cast away or silently accept, depending on his mood. Jealousy Edge could not let take root; his unsettled emotions were difficult enough to deal with during his daily meditations. Rus’s bones belonged to no one but himself.

The opposite was not true. A claim had been laid down on Naiver-12 that Edge did not refute.

That Edge belonged to Rus would have upset him, once. Once he would have been disgusted by the very idea. These days he was more than willing to give over his body to Rus, opening to him, only to him.

Unequal, yes, and Edge didn’t care. Rus’s body was for anyone and his body was only for Rus. He’d accepted that from the beginning.

But their minds and souls were only to be shared with each other. Edge’s soul would accept nothing less and he could feel Rus’s acceptance of that every time they opened their bond. 

His body was not his soul, but even with that unspoken agreement, it was still a relief to know no one was laying rough hands on Rus those nights.

Sharing the respirator, on the other hand, was a minor annoyance, but until they could afford another, it would have to do. It did make Edge wonder what Rus had done wearing their shared face that turned the thugs’ gazes of greedy interest to fear when they saw him. Not enough to ask. 

But breathing in Rus’s scent every morning, the sweetness of his sweat, was not unpleasant. It lingered for the first hours of his day, a small comfort in the midst of hard work.

There were baths in the encampment, but even if Edge dared stripping down to reveal his bones, he wouldn’t want to bathe in filthy, stagnant water that probably held countless diseases. A sonic shower was better than slow death from plague, if only barely. 

There was a sanitary station directly next to the ship’s entrance. Edge stripped out of his jumpsuit and sent it down the cleaning chute for the morning, stepping beneath the quick, uncomfortable sweep of the sonics. Bare, he walked to their quarters, BD-7 clinging easily to his shoulder, only hopping off reluctantly when Edge dressed in his robes. A thin protection to face his…lover?...but better than nudity. 

Only then did he make his way to the galley. 

Rus was lying on one of the benches at the table, his long legs sprawled off the end. He didn’t sit up until Edge set out the food containers and the heavy, rich scent of cooked food filled the air.

“what are you killing us with today?” Rus asked at last, swinging his legs under the table.

He snagged one of the flimsicard containers, pulling out a noodle with his bare fingers and slurping it noisily. Rus only laughed when Edge slapped the back of his skull unhesitatingly, dropping an eating utensil in front of Rus with a pointed clatter.

“the creche master isn’t here to scold me,” Rus said coyly. A subtle dig, that one. He must’ve slept well while Edge was gone to be more playful than cruel. 

There was some relief at that, outside of the tiny cut of his words; Rus’s nightmares were growing steadily worse. 

On the nights that he didn’t run his mysterious errands, he always woke screaming, his sockets blank and dark, whatever memories haunting him concealed behind a wall in his mind.

He seemed rested enough today. Perhaps sleeping in the daylight hours was better for now despite the heat of the suns testing the cooling systems. Anything was better than waking to those awful screams.

Rus was making steady progress on the noodles and Edge opened his own container, suppressed hunger breaking free of its bonds.

The noodles were just this side of too salty, but the broth they were swimming in was satisfyingly rich. Slices of some fungi floated in it and the vegetables were unknown but crunched with alluring freshness. A meat option was available but Edge never ordered it. Unknown vegetables were acceptable in most cases, unknown meat, almost never.

The nutritional wafers were put away with the other preservable supplies. The small, grease-stained box, however, was pushed silently over to Rus. 

Who opened it with wary curiosity to reveal a small, sugar-crusted cake. It cost an entire credit on its own, an almost unknown indulgence on this planet that Edge bought on impulse. Rus had always had a sweet tooth.

Rus didn’t comment on the cake, but his moan of appreciation as he devoured it spoke volumes. When it was gone, he licked a bony finger and dabbled in the box for the last of the crumbs. This time Edge let his lack of manners go. It might be some time before there were sweets again.

It was a pleasant meal, all things considered. So Edge was taken off guard when Rus abruptly asked, “what were you going to do after they killed me?”

“What do you mean? When who killed you?” It wasn’t uncommon for Rus to wander off on a mental tangent, leaving Edge struggling to catch up.

Rus slanted him a sideways look. The darkened circles beneath his sockets were ones of permanence, and his eye lights were coldly amused. “the jedi, of course. the council sent jedi to kill me.”

“I wasn’t there to kill you.” It was more truth than not.

Not enough. Rus’s smile curled into a sneer. “how charming, you were going to save me, were you?” He shook his head, pityingly. “do you really think that was the plan for the others?”

No. He didn’t. But he was sick of playing the role of enemy, sick of being the villain in Rus’s story. Distance gave some clarity and there were wrongs committed on both sides between them, Jedi and Sith, Edge and Rus, and Edge was weary of being the whipping boy. A cracked skull and the loss of all the Jedi was enough penance for anyone.

“what were you doing there?” Edge countered.

“me?” Rus looked at him in surprise. “my master sent me to javin for negotiations. it was beneath my skills, to be honest, and it seems he somehow forgot to tell me not only about the jedi hunting me down, but also about his little plan with the clone troopers.” He tutted sadly, but his fury colored the Force around them with bitter heat. “mind must be going, poor old thing.”

Rus’s grin was sour. “what i am sure about is that i wasn’t supposed to survive that little rendezvous. either the jedi were supposed to kill me or the clone troopers. you and i should be dead, jedi….ouch! stop, you brat!” Rus reached down and there was a clang from the slap of bone against metal, not nearly as loud as it could have been. “i wasn’t threatening him, i was stating a fact! would you mind calling off your watchdog before i kick him into a black hole?”

It was an idle threat but perhaps better to not take chances.

“BD-7, come here.” For a wonder, he did as he was told for once, sullenly trudging over to Edge. Honestly, he hadn’t realized droids had the capacity to glare before meeting this one.

But oddly, the growing tension was broken. The glowing rage in Rus’s eye lights dimmed to something thoughtful.

“why don’t you put your pet in a time out,” Rus said suddenly, “and you can come over here and fuck me.”

“You told me we were planning our next move tonight.” But the flare of heat in his soul and between his legs was willing to postpone.

“i am,” Rus licked his teeth, and the banked heat in his sockets was enticing rather than alarming. “i think better when i’m relaxed.”

By the time Edge wrangled the small, furious droid out the door, the empty food containers were scattered on the floor and Rus was atop the table, bare femurs spread and his legs dangling off the end from his bent knees.

Edge leaned over him, bracing his hands on the table, eye lights trailing over those slim, scarred bones. Rus tipped his skull up for a kiss and his heated amusement turned to confusion when Edge didn’t take it.

“You were right,” Edge told him, low. “If I couldn’t save you, I was going to kill you.”

“ah, there we are,” Rus only smirked up at him, a glittery shine in his eye lights. “well, according to jedi thinking, by killing me you would be saving me. what about now? have you learned to think for yourself, yet?”

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Edge tried. It was a promise they’d shared before, both of them, broken time and again. It shouldn’t hurt when Rus called him on it.

“awww, you’ve already hurt me plenty, haven’t you, sweetheart.” And the laughter beneath those words was a wound of its own. “but if you’re promising not to kill me, i may take you up on it.” The sudden softness on his face, uncertain gentleness, sent another pang through Edge’s soul, a more tender wound. “thinking on your own, though, that takes a while, jedi. took me a long time. now, are you going to fuck me or are you waiting for me to top?”

Edge didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words for any part of that. Instead, he slid down, cutting off Rus’s startled protests by pressing his face to the softness between his legs, his cunt softer than any other part of Rus, even his soul. 

He buried his tongue in that sweetness, over and over, until fingers were scrabbling at his skull and Rus was swearing in broken gasps. Until Rus braced a foot against his shoulder and pushed, only enough to give him leverage to pull Edge on top of him.

Both of them fumbled together at his trousers, fingers tangled with fabric and each other. When his cock was finally free, Edge wasted no time, only briefly slicking through those wet folds before pressing inside.

“ah, yes…fuck…hard-harder!” Rus slurred out. He didn’t wait, wrapped both legs around Edge’s pelvis and tried to drag him in. 

Edge resisted, pressed in deep, waiting as Rus pleaded and clawed at him, waiting until that hoarse, begging voice broke. 

Then he slowly withdrew, only to plunge back in in one long, hard stroke. Rus wailed as Edge rode him relentlessly, driving into him while Rus begged without shame. Their bodies crashed together, the table creaked and screeched with every thrust, jittering across the floor. Until it hit the wall and there it thumped, once, twice, and Edge threw his head back with a harsh groan as he came in that wet, trembling heat.

Gasping, he sagged down on Rus, ignoring his frustrated swearing. With effort, he managed to work a hand between them. Edge rocked his pelvis in short thrusts even as he softened inside him, circled the hard nub of his clit with a thumb until Rus shuddered, hands and cunt tightening convulsively as he toppled over his own peak.

Then there was nothing but panting, their sweat mingling as Edge managed to rise up shakily on his elbows. Rus didn’t quite respond to his soft kiss, parted his teeth drowsily but his tongue was lax against Edge’s coaxing one. 

He didn’t protest when Edge shifted, breathed out a contented sigh as Edge carefully withdrew and fastened his trousers. Only snuggled into Edge’s arms when he picked Rus up, kicking aside the crushed food containers to carry Rus to their bed.

Edge set him gently onto the blankets and it was only a moment’s work to pull off his own robes, settling next to him. Their bond wasn’t opened, but softened, inviting a light press of thoughts and Edge did, curling up against Rus’s mind as he did the same to his body.

But the nightmare still came. Rus woke screaming in his arms and all Edge could do was hold him, soothe him with useless words. 

Slowly, Rus settled. His body, always and never Edge’s, was thin and trembling beneath the blankets. His mind was a brick wall. Lying in the darkness, holding him close, Edge could only wonder at what was hidden behind the closed shutters of Rus’s mind.

Perhaps it was time to find out.

-tbc-


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder because it’s been a while since I updated. Read the warnings! Not the healthiest relationship here!

* * *

When Edge woke again, it was still ship’s night. He didn’t remember falling asleep while trying to concoct a plan to deal with Rus’s nightmares, but a glance at the chronometer told him it had only been a few hours. The bed next to him was empty, not entirely unusual, but the faint rapping on the door was. Something was stirring in the Force, he could feel it. Not a warning so much as an ominous hum. It made him cautious, but the only thing on the other side of the door was BD-7.

It let out a quavering, uncertain sound and that alone gave Edge pause. The little droid had proven to be almost foolishly bold, so for him to be unsettled was cause enough to be wary. 

“What is it?” He slid on his boots and hooked his lightsaber to his belt, following the little droid out into the ship proper.

He heard it before he saw it, rustling and loud muttering, the sound of things being slammed around. He knew it was Rus before he even reached out to brush against his shields. But they were seamlessly tight, no give at all beneath his light probe, rebuffing any mental touch. 

“Stay here,” Edge murmured. The small droid’s mechanical face was impressively expressive. He didn’t make so much as a beep and it was apparent that he was not keen on this idea. But Edge would not relent; Rus was less likely to try to hurt him and even if he did, Edge was far better equipped to handle it than one droid who didn’t even reach their knees, whose only weapon was a welding tool.

Edge inhaled slowly, settling himself in calm, and stepped into the crew cabin. And directly into a wreck; data rods and star maps strewn everywhere, equipment Rus had been working on smashed, even what looked like a few of their cups shattered into rubble on the floor. Impressive considering that the plasticine should have been unbreakable. Rus was sitting at the table with yet another map laid out in front of him, scribbling on it with an old-fashion stylus. The slashes of black were barely legible and mostly consisted of foul swearing, in every language Edge knew and several other besides.

The dark shadows staining beneath his sockets were stark against the paleness of his skull, but Russ’s eye lights were blazing unevenly, symptomatic of whatever was currently haunting him and Edge only stood there, aching; it was as if every step of progress they’d made towards some kind of sanity had broken along with the cups.

“i don’t know where we can go,” Rus said suddenly, breaking the silence. He was only half-dressed, in his trousers with his tunic hanging open, exposing his rib cage. For all that he was sitting, there was a manic energy around him, his legs jittering, the bare bones of his feet clacking against the deck as he frantically wrote, “we can’t stay here much longer, we’ve already been in one place too long, but i don’t know where—“

He raked the stylus suddenly over the map, ugly, looping scrawls of blackness, then cast it carelessly aside. It fell like a dying leaf, settling silently on the floor with the others. 

Cautiously, Edge stepped closer, studying the scattered maps. There was one hanging off the table as yet unmarked and he saw a name he recognized. Pinching the corner between two fingers, he pulled it loose, studying it. “We could go to Ebott.”

Rus stilled and the peculiar heaviness in the air grew. “that’s an incredibly stupid idea.”

“we’d blend in!” It was true; Ebott was their home planet and there would be plenty of their species there. Surely no one would give them more than a second glance, especially if they dressed to match the natives. They’d be nothing more than faces in a crowd, unremarkable.

“we’d stand out like a pair of fools begging to be shot square between the sockets!” Rus countered, sneering, “it’s obvious to anyone who looks at us we’re from two different clans! how exactly do you plan on explaining that?” 

"I…" Rus was right, he realized. He had no memory of living on Ebott himself, they'd both been taken by the Jedi when they were still babes in arms. But his own people, the Fell clan, were reported to be violent, warmongering ones and the Swap clan were strictly pacifists. There would be few reasons for them to travel together on that planet unless--

Rus smirked suddenly and his laugh was sharp enough to cut, to leave thin slashes on the surface of Edge’s soul, “ah, i see. you were hoping to pretend i was your slave, is that it?"

“No. No, I would never…” Edge whispered, horrified. He should have backed off, shouldn’t have spoken at all. But Rus’s eye lights were brightening, glowing savagely and his laughter was a bittersweet poison, echoing in the small room.

"if that's how you want to play, you only needed to ask," Rus swept an arm over the table, sending data rods and star maps flying, scattering across the messy floor. He lay back on the cleared table, spreading his legs wide and crossing his arms over his head at the wrist. "i know how to play this one. Come on, _master_ , take what you want."

Edge didn't move, frozen, only the agitated throb of his soul within. He _couldn’t_ move, staring in bleak horror at Rus writhing on the table, on the scarred bones of his rib cage, the savage darkness of Force gathering around him. Some distant, bitter seed deep inside him was amazed that anything Rus did could still shock him, proven when he was suddenly Force-seized and dragged forward, pulled between Rus's knees. 

"yes, master, please,” Rus begged, mockingly, wrapped slim legs around Edge’s pelvis to hold him in, grinding against him. ”i'll be a good boy, oh, please!!"

Horrifyingly, his body reacting to being pressed close to Rus, hardening as he listened to those throaty cries. His cock didn't care about the sneering glitter in Rus's eye lights, didn’t care about the pain layered beneath it. Even so, Edge did not fight him, couldn’t, only allowed Rus to press and writhe against him with increasing fervor as he didn’t react.

"oh, i see, i've got it wrong." Rus voice rose again, and this time it held no mocking. His words were desperate and fearful as he pleaded raggedly, "no! no, please, no more! No more, master i can’t—" he shuddered and collapsed limply against the table, like one who’d given up, given in to degradation and it was real, too real, like a memory come to life and—

"Stop it!" Edge roared. He yanked desperately away, stumbling back, but he could still feel the press of Rus against him, the heavy hardness of his cock between his legs.

That false vulnerability was gone in a blink as Rus sat up, and he was laughing again, sharp and mocking, ”go on, jedi. go jerk off and think about me. i’ll be waiting when you’re ready to fuck.”

Edge couldn’t do this; emotions battering against his own shields, his own fear, his shame, and worse, his bitter anger, anger at Rus, at himself, because he knew exactly why Rus was so broken. And he knew who was at fault.

Edge spun on his heel and walked rapidly away, down the main corridor, through the hold and down the ramp to the planet surface. It was darker outside, the dual suns never went lower than the crest of the horizon, and only marginally cooler than before.

He sat on the end of the ramp, breathing in the hot, dusty air that was still cooler than the burn within him. He stared out at the wastelands around him, nothing but boulders and dust in sight, focused on each rock formation, studying them as he calmed. It took a long time, too long, for him to wrestle back his control and only when he had it did Edge reach for the Force. Brief, unwanted fear pierced, that this would be the time it slipped away from him, but the Force only flowed into him as it always had, cool and serene. 

Only when his shields and emotions were firmly back in place did Edge venture back into the ship. Rus was gone and BD-7 was there instead, carefully picking up the data rods one at a time and stacking them. There were a lot and it would take him the rest of the night on his own. 

Edge crouched down and gathered a handful of them. "Let me help."

BD-7 chirped mournfully, not a protest, but the worried sound of a friend who’d seen something they shouldn’t. With a quiet sigh, Edge patted his head, his bone fingers clattering lightly against metal.

“It’s my choice to be here,” Edge told him quietly. “I won’t leave Rus alone.” He made no mention of his past agreement, that he belonged to Rus, but it was true. He’d made his decision, thrown everything that he was into Rus’s lot, and he would stay here to whatever grim end might await them. But he wouldn’t make that choice for any other sentient. “You don’t have to stay here. We can find a safe place for you, not on this planet, perhaps the next—“

A loud blatting sound interrupted him, wordlessly telling him BD-7’s opinion on that. Edge smiled involuntarily, even as guilty relief thickened in his throat, “Very well, then. Together we go.”

Between the two of them, they cleaned up the crew cabin quickly enough. Data rods put away and the star maps set aside to be cleaned by the maintenance droids. Weariness was pulling on Edge, interrupted sleep coupled with plain exhaustion from days of hard work, but he decided to go to the mines early rather than try to sleep. The sooner they had enough credits, the sooner they could leave this wretched place. 

Rus wasn’t in their room, likely hidden away belowdecks, and Edge dressed quickly in his gear, settling the mask over his skull. BD-7 clung to his shoulder as he walked to the speeder, skittering into one of the saddlebags to hide as Edge powered it on and headed towards town. 

A few klicks along and the slumped shadow of the mining town was within view. Edge did not see the smaller shadows that separated out, moving behind him, the half-dawn light concealed their dust clouds as he rode on. Multiple trails that followed him through the deserted plains, growing closer, closer, traveling along behind him.

* * *

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder about the warnings on this story! There’s violence and angst, dark themes, and as a Sith, it’s safe to say Rus is mentally unwell.
> 
> This is the first chapter I’ve done from his POV, so brace yourself.

 

* * *

   
From belowdecks, deep within the bowels of the ship that held the humming engines and machinery, Rus sat working, his focus entirely on the equipment beneath his hands. 

He ignored the exhausted tremor in his fingers as a mere annoyance. It was hardly the first time he’d gone without sleep; the nightmares he kept locked up tight during the day slipping their chains whenever they had a chance. He was the closest thing to an engineer around—Stars knew Edge was shit at it— and the ship didn’t care how tired he was; maintenance needed to be done regularly if they were going to get off this shitheap of a planet. 

If, yeah, there was the rub. Wherever they ended up going. had to be somewhere they could go, someplace to hide, but the Force was everywhere, in everything—the panic starting to jibber in one of Rus’s mental corridors was forcibly shoved away, banked for now.

It would break free eventually, probably the next time he forced himself to look at a star map, but he’d humiliated himself enough for one night. His mind was a labyrinth filled with dead ends and false doors, defenses built from desperation against himself as much as other minds trying to invade.

Ones still trying to invade. The memory of his Master breaking through his shields all those years ago, the oily-sweet pleasure of the Dark side that promised an end to the ongoing pain, ah, that memory was close off in a special mental room, bolted shut. But that was a lock often broken.

Broken like he was, Rus thought with savage amusement. Because he was, oh, yes. Edge might like to pretend there was something to piece back together, that there was a puzzle to solve within Rus. He could tell himself as many lies as he liked, Rus was broken, knew it, and he didn’t give a shit. 

All he wanted was to stay alive with Edge. And to get off of this soul-sucking piece of shit planet, but he supposed that fell under staying alive, didn’t it. 

For now, he hummed to himself, stripping out old wiring to replace with new that he’d bartered for in the mining town. He tipped his light source downward, the better to see what he was doing, and kept working.

He knew when Edge left the ship, felt his Force signature fade into distance. Most of him didn’t care.  
   
Some of him didn’t care.

The part that did spoke up then to gripe about it and the voice was one of his old crèche attendants; a yammering, bitter old Gorith, her skin faded to pale green and who might’ve retired some years ago, only clinging to her spoiled dreams of Jedi greatness as she scolded the children over their bedtimes and cleaned teeth.

She scolded him now, though her words weren’t ones ever said to any child, _He wouldn’t have left if you’d let him fuck you. But you had to be terrible, had to be Sith, you—_

Her diatribe was interrupted by a harsh laugh, a voice that once belonged to Rus, torn from days of screaming and healed except for in his mind, **He’s Fucked Him Plenty. Pretty Little Jedi Can’t Take A Joke.**  
   
It turned into an argument in the back of his head, those splintered voices squabbling. It made him want to clutch the sides of his head, scream at them to shut up for fucking once, but he couldn’t stop it, could he. They were all him, in the end.  
   
Another voice piped up, was that the Jedi Padawan? Rus, Papyrus, they didn’t claim a name, and their voice was a mere whisper as they meekly put forth, edge cares about us.  
   
Only for a rebuttal to come, raw and gleefully, **He Cares About Fucking You. About Fucking Us, Rather, Not Very Picky, Is He. Were You Really Such A Bad Lay As A Jedi That You Couldn’t Even Seduce Him? Needed Me, Didn’t You, Someone For Him To Save, To Hurt—**  
   
“I’m not listening,” Rus said aloud. They ignored him, like always. He didn’t _want_ to listen, but his focus was caught between the machinery beneath his hands and the cold delight of Sith that told him Edge’s concern for him lay only between his legs. He was nothing but a cunt or a dick, whatever Edge needed, a receptacle for his pain, and he stayed only because there was nowhere else for a Jedi to go. True, it was the truth, he knew it was the truth. None of the other voices could offer any other. The Sith was strongest within him, often swarming in to take over and that was when Rus was cruelest, he knew, even while the Jedi in his mind wept, trapped back behind scars and webbed over pain.  
   
Lashing out at Edge made him feel better…for a time. Then he was left with his own bitter emptiness, and the shocked look on Edge's face no longer soothed, but ached.  
   
Edge would come back, he told himself, if only because he had to. He’d work to exhaustion in the mines, come back with a pathetic pile of credits and whatever rations he could, when he did, Rus would take his turn to go out and earn them some real funds. The amount that he already had secreted away would likely make Edge concerned to see, his face falling into that lost expression that said he was trying not to think of how Rus earned them.  
   
Probably for the best he didn’t know. Didn’t mean that Rus wouldn’t take glee in telling him someday.

Rus sighed, suddenly weary. He was trapped on this shithole planet, on this ship, with his fractured, bitter thoughts and there was nothing he could do about it until Edge came back.

When he did, maybe Rus wouldn’t leave the ship after all. Maybe he’d stay and remind Edge who he belonged to, that he might play-offer to act as Edge’s slave but They both Knew better, Didn’t They, Make Him—

No. Rus shook away the Sith’s greedy voice. He’d stay or he’d go, and whatever he did with Edge would be his choice and no one else’s.

He gathered up his kit, tucking little tools into his belt pouches and decided to go back up to the galley to get one of the dry ration bars Edge brought back.

He didn’t get two steps out of the Engine room when a sound in the main corridor made him stiffen. Edge wouldn’t have left the mines so quickly unless something was very wrong. But no one else should have been able to get past the ship’s shields without setting off an alarm.

**Careful, Be So Careful, The Master Will Find Us Eventually, Careful—**

Subtle nuances eluded him these days, but when he reached out with the Force, Rus could feel a dulled presence, overshadowed with something resembling pain. He stepped into the corridor, lightsaber in hand, ready, eager, for an opponent. 

Only for his sockets to widen as he caught sight of BD-7. Or what remained of it. Torn wires sparked, small limbs clattered as it struggled to make its way along the corridor wall.

Rus went to it hastily, clipping his lightsaber to his belt as he crouched to eye the damage. The little droid had take a hell of a beating; one of its optics hung from the socket, dim and unlit, and it dragged one limp, useless leg behind it. The metal of its body was scorched with the telltale marks of blaster fire. 

It caught sight of Rus with its working optic and let out a warbling cry, a wordless moan of mechanical agony.

“easy,” Rus murmured, already working to pry up a tiny maintenance panel with his fingers. It was the work of moments to reroute the constantly pinging error messages so they would stop assaulting BD-7’s processors. The little droid hardly needed them to let it know the extent of its damage and the lack of ‘pain’ would allow its processors to clear enough to answer questions, and of those Rus had plenty.

He barely waited for the droid to go limp with relief before demanding, ”where is edge?"  
   
Its sound module crackled, but Rus could understand BD-7 well enough. “ _Captured. Hunters. He fought hard but he was overwhelmed.”_ It lifted its head, glaring at Rus with its one lit optic. _“Because of you! You distracted him!”_  
   
"you’re probably right,” Rus agreed, readily accepting blame. Certainly Edge’s Jedi calm had been in shreds when he fled from Rus earlier. His own satisfaction at the sight had soured almost immediately and now they were all going to suffer from his giving in to petulance. 

BD-7 wouldn’t be able to feel it, but it was surely aware that Rus was doing a few hasty field repairs. The leg was past an easy fix, but Rus could at least splint it to allow the droid to walk awkwardly. The optic he sealed over with insulating tape, stuffing the burnt out wires into the damaged socket to deal with later.  
   
Before he could tape off the other sparking cables, the little droid tried to jerk away, its working leg scraping the decking. “ _You need to help him!”_  
   
“we will,” Rus told him calmly. He yanked BD-7 closer again and began sealing off the rest of the wires despite its squawking.

The furious inner workings of his mind creating plans weren't visible to the little droid, who only glared at him with its remaining optic and demanded, _“Now!”_  
   
“we will!” Rus said, sharply. “they can't take off for at least eighteen standard hours, not until we clear the gas giant's gravity well. we have a little time. now let me finish this or you’re going to be useless to me.”  
   
BD-7 went grudgingly lax, allowing him to finish taping. Which should’ve been enough, but Rus couldn’t help the words that tumbled out, urged on by the memory of the little droid’s past attacks on his boots.

“you’re very loyal for only having known him for a few weeks, aren’t you, pet.” The droid made a rude sound and tried to release its welding tool, but Rus pressed down on the little hatch until it gave up, sullenly sinking back to the deck. It was enough, a sip of hatred even from a droid satisfying the Sith.

When he finished, Rus scooped BD-7 up and settled it on his shoulder, holding on until he was sure it had a grip. 

Its dislike didn’t keep it from leaning against Rus’s skull, warbling out mournfully, _”Help him?”_

Rus gave it an absent pat. “we will. first we need to find him.”  
   
_“Use the Force,”_ BD-7 said urgently. Rus snorted in disgust. Of course. Non-Force sensitives always went that route. To them, the Force was either a hoax or an all-encompassing magical miracle.  
   
“that's a precious thought, but i'd rather use the tracker i hid on him.” The droid let out a sputtering noise of outrage as Rus pulled the monitor control from his belt. “oh, stop complaining,” Rus chided. “it's coming in handy, isn't it?”

The map showed a grotto of some sort, not too far away, but enough for one that was on foot. They’d need to hurry because if they got Edge off-planet, he’d be looking for a single star in a galaxy.

 _My star. Mine._ For once, all the voices in his head were in agreement. Find Edge and get him back, no matter the cost.

Rus strode off in the direction of the hatch, and the Sith said, cheerily, “Now, Why Don’t We Go Make Someone Pay For Taking What’s Ours, Shall We?”

The droid’s beeps of bloodthirsty agreement only made him laugh in delight.

* * *

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> Just a reminder that this story is very dark and that you should read the tags. 
> 
> This chapter in particular contains attempted rape and dubious consent, along with a lot of violence and some dirty sexing.

* * *

Once, Edge would have been able to easily fight them off. A group of bounty hunters, even a fair-sized one, wasn’t a match for a Jedi Knight in his prime. 

That was before Edge spent weeks on a ship and then more weeks exhausting himself working in a mine. Before he traded katas and training regiments for swinging a pick and long before he’d given up meditating, only truly dropping his mental shields in those moments when he and Rus were lying together, in body if not in soul, desperately offering his love out to a void that never took it. 

He was no longer as open to the Force as he once was. Gone were the easy times where its touch cradled him, as comforting and safe as the arms of the parents he never knew. These days Edge hesitated to reach for it. He no longer knew what might reach back.

If he’d been open to the Force instead of keeping his shields close around him, he would have felt the hunters before they attacked. As it was, he’d been taken down with embarrassing ease, the same way so many Jedi fell beneath the blasters of the Clone troopers who were supposed to be following their orders. 

They’d shot his speeder out from under him, sending him careening into one of the rock formations that scattered the dusty landscape. BD-7 screeched as it was thrown from the bike and he’d heard the clang of its small body shattering against the boulder, metal smashing against stone. 

He’d barely had a chance to keep himself from doing the same, landing on his feet but wrenching his ankle in the process. Even his heavy work boots were no match against velocity combined with gravity, not that it would have mattered. The hail of stunners finished the job, and by the time he’d woken in a strange ship’s hold, he’d been bound hand and foot with heavy binders, and then further chained to the wall by a heavy collar around his cervical vertebra. When he dared to use the Force, gingerly checking the cuff mechanisms, he was grimly impressed with the safeguards he found. Stunners and if those failed, they would take his hands off at the wrist, his feet at the ankles. Damaging but ultimately not fatal. Their inventor must have gone against Force sensitives before. 

They’d left him with a guard, a Gamorrean, and he sat with a blaster in his lap, watching Edge with piggish eyes. 

The cuffs were beyond his ability to escape, but he could sense all the living creatures around him. Shutting his sockets, he reached out, extended his awareness and found close to a dozen other life forms within the confines of the ship. 

Their bounty must have gone up considerably for this kind of response. 

Well. This might be the end of his journeys, then. 

Strange how easy it was to fall into calm. After weeks with Rus, all the unaccustomed emotion churning and frothing within him, forcing him to teeter between the Jedi and whatever it was he and Rus had between them, facing his own mortality came with odd ease. Even if he was facing torture, in the end he would join the Force, join the rest of his fallen brethren. 

Perhaps that was as it should be. Surely it would be better to die as a Jedi than fall to the Dark Side, and for all their time together, could he truly say he’d helped Rus at all? All he’d done was give him something else to pull at his tenuous hold on his sanity. If Rus was alone, Edge had no doubt he would have easily faded into obscurity, hiding himself away from the Empire and his Master, and when he was out of the Sith Lord’s reach, perhaps on his own he could have gained back some of himself.

Instead, he was forced to consider Edge in every equation, even adding to the foolishness by including a small droid to his plans. For Edge. 

_(He did not think of BD-7, did not want to think of its last warbling, fearful cry, the sound of its small body smashing against stone.)_

Small wonder Rus was panicking as he tried to find yet another place for them to hide, another backwater planet where the long arm of the Empire had yet to reach. One Force sensitive might hide, but a second, especially one whose grip on the Force was…was…

A rill of drool fell from the Gamorrean’s mouth and Edge curled his mouth in disgust, struggling not to cringe from the way its gaze trailed over him. He knew that look, was becoming far too accustomed to seeing it in their travels, all too often aimed at Rus and himself.

Now he could only wonder idly what bragging prestige came from violating a Jedi, even one as lost as himself. He pulled his shields in tighter still, cutting off the lustiness he could feel rising from the foul creature. 

The threat of violation was one that came too often as of late and he could only summon weary sort of dread for whatever the Gamorrean came up with to attempt. 

Edge’s species was not one that was easily assaulted. His teeth would be enough to give even the boldest rapist pause and while their bodies could be encouraged to provide an outlet, it could only be done by one with sure knowledge of their anatomy. 

This pig didn't look like it'd made a study of much of anything, but from the way it set aside its blaster, shuffling over to where Edge was bound and helpless against the wall, it seemed eager to try. 

It was all too easy to fall inward, settling himself into the calm serenity of the Force when a clawed, thick-fingered hand settled on his knee. Edge’s sockets were open, but they did not see, ignored the grunt of frustration from the Gamorrean as it struggled with Edge’s heavy belt, wrenching open the buckle and yanking his opened trousers down to his ankles.

He did not feel those same hands scrabbling over him, searching fruitlessly for something to fuck in the cage of Edge’s bones, roughly fingering his pelvic outlet in an attempt to make something form. 

Serenity flowed through him as the Gamorrean gave up its search and instead reached for its own belt, and it was something close to amusement that Edge wondered what the fool was going to even do with the cock it, he, pulled out. 

That brief humor faded, the Force slamming a warning against his shields. Edge flinched from that as he didn’t bother flinching from the pig, felt it again, what was that, what—

Death, dying, the Force was shrieking as all around him; in the ship the bounty hunters were being slaughtered, dying before more than a groan could make it through the blood bubbling from their slack mouths. Darkness, so much darkness, Edge could feel it, overshadowing the fact of the Gamorrean climbing on top of him, pushing his legs as far apart as the chain and his trousers allowed. The Dark side beckoning, crooning to him, ever greedy and Rus was not enough to satisfy it.

 _Rus_. It was Rus butchering the bounty hunters with joyous savagery and the Gamorrean that was hunched between his spread femurs did not yet know it. He grunted and slavered at his bones, that tusked mouth grinding against Edge’s ribs, moving steadily lower. As he felt the first curl of a thick, slimy tongue against his pubic symphysis, the hold door opened, sending his would-be rapist scrambling away from him.

The rich smell of ozone filled the air, lightning sparking from Rus’s hands, branching out from his sockets as he stepped into the room. He lifted a hand and the Gamorrean squealed in terror, and then in agony. 

Edge closed his sockets. He didn’t see what Rus did to the pig, could only hear those shrieks rising higher, turning garbled and choked before silencing completely. A fine spray of warm blood fell on Edge’s skull and face, and he flinched, sockets slitting open to see Rus fling what remained of the Gamorrean almost casually against the wall, the limp body colliding with a crack of breaking bones and leaving behind a vivid green smear as it slumped to the floor. 

The lightning pulsed, raw purple threads reaching out, skittering over the walls, down Rus’s legs to waver across the floor. He hated the way his soul lurched at the sight, yearning towards him, the mangled, lost remnants of what was once his closest friend.

That electrical discharge faded slowly, the bright, maniacal gleam in Rus’s eye lights fading down to their normal soft orange. He stepped over to Edge on silent feet, his cloak ghosting out around him as he crouched. 

“look at you,” Rus murmured. His voice was raw, throaty, as if the lightning generated there and burned its way out. He set a gloved finger beneath Edge’s chin, tipping his head up. “did they touch you?”

The correct answer was no. Denial would be the wise chose, even with the slime of saliva still drying on his bones. He couldn’t say what drove him to say, “Perhaps.”

Maybe it was only to see that answer flare hotly in Rus’s eye lights.

He stood abruptly, reaching back, and it was only then that Edge saw the small droid clinging to his shoulder.

“time for you to wait outside,” Rus said, pulling BD-7 free. It had survived the crash but from the look of it, only barely, and it made a loud, furious protest as Rus detached it from his shirt, carrying it towards the door. They ended on a squawk as Rus took hold with the Force, holding the droid suspended in the air directly in front of his skull. 

"i have been very patient with you," Rus said, his voice chillingly cold, "but my patience is running thin, droid. you're going wait outside this room. i'll take care of him." Despite the words, Rus was oddly gentle as he set BD-7 on the floor on the other side of the door. "you were helpful getting him back, i won't forget that."

Then he pushed the lock button and the door swished closed, leaving them alone.

Rus turned back to him, walking over in slow, measured steps. Edge felt his gaze move over him, vividly aware of the picture he presented. His hands bound and wrenched up over his head, fastened to the wall along with the collar, both keeping him rigidly upright. His femurs were bare, spread, his trousers still binding his ankles, obscuring the length of chain from the binder.

He could draw his knees up and did it, automatically trying to hide his naked pelvis from Rus’s avid stare. Only for a tug of pressure to halt him, the Force still thick around them and it held his legs for Rus, allowed him to see the beginnings of his desire stirring. 

Rus only stood there. He reached for his lightsaber almost dreamily, hefting it in his hand before flicking it on to the lowest setting, the crimson plasma barely the length of a finger.

“don’t move,” Rus said softly. 

Edge did as he was told, holding as still as he could as Rus methodically cut the rough miner’s gear away from him. The stink of burning cloth rose, smoldering and foul, and as careful as Rus was, he grazed too close against Edge’s tibia, leaving a tiny scorch mark. Edge locked his teeth around a cry and that small pain did nothing to diminish his growing want, the insanity of his persistent arousal. 

When he was bare except for the binders, Rus stood again, stripping off his outer robe and tossing it carelessly aside, his lightsaber falling into its pillowing depths. He knelt between Edge’s forcibly spread legs, still in his shirt and trousers, the fabric rough against bone. 

“should i ask you again?” Slender, scarred fingers skimmed over his ribs, following the same path as that foul tongue earlier, dropping down to fondle his pubis, dipping into the swirling desire there. At his touch it coalesced into a cunt, already slippery with need and Rus’s fingers lingered, tracing the soft, damp lips. “well? anything to say?”

“Don’t!” Edge blurted and he couldn’t say if it was a plea to end this or for Rus to simply stop speaking. He was lost in his desperation, his hips jerking into Rus’s teasing, unsatisfying touch. 

Rus only hummed thoughtfully. “you wouldn’t lie to me, would you. you’d tell me if someone else touched you like this. because you’re mine.” 

_Yours_. He couldn't say it, his tongue was gluey, useless. He could only offer it through the Force in a grim offering, wincing as Rus latched onto it, thick with petulance and greed. 

“mine,” Rus repeated. The low burn of his eye lights ignited, flaring with the violent energy of a supernova. "always, you promised me, you swore.” All his ease faded, his laughter wrong and mangled and Edge was trapped, bound. But then he always had been, from the moment he’d woken on Rus’s ship with an aching, cracked skull. 

Rus fumbled at the fly of his trousers, lowering them, and Edge only arched up as Rus shuffled closer, the hot, heavy length briefly gliding up his slit before pressing inside in one hard shove. 

The sound that tore from Edge was close to a wail, but it wasn’t from pain, or not all from pain. He couldn’t sort through the sensation, it simply _felt_ and Rus was panting hard, driving into him with relentless rhythm, muttering beneath his breath, a tangle of words of _mine_ and _claim_ and _tight, fuck, so tight_.

The embrace was a poor one, Edge only able to writhe against his bonds, Rus struggling with the angle, trying to find one that would let him in deeper, to let him claim more, take more, pushing in as far as their position allowed. Sliding in and back out, stretching him open with each thrust and sending crackles of pleasure to spark up his spine. Edge couldn’t have denied him, trapped and bound, and it was his greedy, tearing shame that he didn’t want to. 

_Don't stop, yours, always yours, have me, take me, yours_

The sound Rus made was guttural, a thick, glottal snarl and Edge matched it when Rus abruptly pulled out, leaving him clenching on nothingness, empty and open as Rus scrambled to his feet. The first splash of wetness startled him and Edge closed his sockets against the second, lifting his chin, allowing Rus to mark him. 

The heavy splatter ran down his sharp cheekbones and Edge tasted it against his teeth as he automatically licked them, cloyingly sweet. 

“there,” Rus said, hoarsely, sinking back down to his knees. His voice was blurred with satisfaction, slender fingers smearing his seed across Edge’s face, pressing them to his mouth and urging him to lick them clean. 

It was only when that sweetness was gone, leaving behind only the taste of Edge’s spit that he pulled them free, ignoring the way Edge’s tongue curled persistently around them. His disappointment at losing them faded as those slick fingers dropped back between his legs, pressing and twisting with knowing skill until Edge was struggling to writhe against them, the sound of them moving in his wet cunt viscerally obscene. 

He came with barely a sound, hissed through his teeth, a single word that lit in Rus’s eye lights like a candle flame. 

_Yours._

Then there was only them panting and drained, all the little aches coming in to fill the voids left by desire. Edge felt like he hurt everywhere, bruises left by the attack, by his capture, by Rus himself making themselves known with throbbing intensity. His bound hands were numb, displaced, and Edge shifted uncomfortable, a low groan escaping. 

“here.” Rus pulled a small device from his belt, a remote of some sort, and pressed the button. Immediately, the binders opened and Edge nearly screamed as sensation brutally ran back into his freed limbs. He rolled to his side, moaning, cramming his hands under his arms and squeezing hard, pulling his knees up into his chest as the pain looped relentlessly through him. 

“fuck, sorry, sorry!” Rus was kneeling by him in an instantly, frantically rubbing his arms and legs, the pain dwindled into a static of pins and needles before it finally eased. His breathing settled until it was no longer a sob on each exhale and when Edge finally opened his sockets again, Rus was looking down at him, his expression tainted with both sheepishness and remorse. 

“Asshole,” Edge managed, and Rus gaped, then laughed, sharp and shrill. He stripped off his robe and swung it around Edge’s shoulders, helping him ease his arms into it with marked gentleness. 

“well! i’ve had about enough of this scug-hole of a planet,” Rus said cheerily. “let’s have a look around this ship and see what our friends left for us, shall we?” He paused, his hand reaching down to hover over the obvious swelling of Edge’s wrenched ankle. “or maybe i should. you stay here a minute, i’ll see if i can find a clean place for you to sit while i scrounge.”

“Keep a lookout for a pair of pants,” Edge rasped out and if his own laughter was a touch too shrill, teetering towards some unnamed emotion, Edge ignored it. 

But Rus paused, a shadow falling across his face. He said nothing, but strode over to the door, opening it. Instantly, a small droid limped in, spitting and hissing its fury as it skirted the corpse of the Gamorrean and made a beeline to Edge. From Rus’s amused glance, Edge decided it was better if he didn’t know what sort of swearing BD-7 was coloring the air with. He only held out his hands silently, picking up the little droid and holding it close. 

“keep an eye on him,” Rus ordered. It took Edge a moment to realize Rus was speaking to the droid. It let out a blatting whistle, offering its agreement and Rus swept through the door that whisked closed behind him. 

“Hello, little one,” Edge murmured. The droid was in rough shape, no question, although he could see some hastily repairs had been done. “Don’t worry. I know Rus isn’t your favorite person, but he’ll get you back into good working order.”

BD-7 let out a mournful whistle and at first Edge thought it was from the idea of letting Rus repair him. But BD-7 reached out with a clawed arm and touched Edge’s face, the metal tips coming back smeared with orange that was tinted with greenish blood. 

He’d never been embarrassed by a droid before, Edge thought vaguely, gathering up a corner of Rus’s cloak and wiping at his skull. When it was as clean as he could get it without a sonic shower, Edge leaned heavily against the wall, closing his sockets as exhaustion overtook him. Rus would be back soon, hopefully to take him to someplace in this ship that didn’t stink of death. 

Rus. 

A small, deeply concealed part of Edge’s soul mourned for his rescue, a last chance at escape from all of this into the sweet embrace of death while he could still call himself Jedi. But Edge left it where it was, so deep as to be forgotten as he waited for Rus, his friend, his lover, his damnation. That brilliant, lost soul, who could repair a droid, but Edge was afraid that he couldn’t say the same about himself. 

* * *

tbc


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

By the time Rus returned from his scrounging through the bounty hunter’s ship, Edge was drowsing where he sat leaning against the wall. He jerked awake at BD-7’s blat of warning, tensing as the door slid open only to reveal Rus striding back in, a couple large carrysacks slung over one shoulder. 

“come on,” Rus said. The contents of the bags clunked as he leaned down to help Edge to his feet, steadying him as he shuffled cautiously towards the door. 

“Pants?” Edge asked, blurrily. The exhaustion still coursing through his system was making thinking somewhat difficult yet, but he did know that he wasn’t interested in heading out into the wastelands in nothing more than Rus’s outer robe. 

“yeah, don’t worry, i got you covered.” It took a moment for the pun of it to filter through and Edge stopped, staring at Rus in disbelief. 

He only grinned in return, eye lights glittering with deep amusement. “what, it’s the truth! come on, we’ll get the clothes issues _ironed_ out. not too much further now. this ship ain’t that big.”

Edge followed Rus’s guiding tug, but it wasn’t the puns giving Edge pause. It was that in this moment, Rus seemed more like himself than he had since the day he’d vanished. It made something rise in Edge’s soul that he didn’t dare name, tamping it down as they shuffled through the narrow corridor. It was a good thing that this ship wasn’t better than their own, considering the amount of corpses they passed as Rus finally led him out of the maze of the hold. Cleaning it out would be more trauma than it was worth. 

The further they went, the more difficult it became for Edge to keep up. His legs were cursedly wobbly, probably an aftereffect of the stunners they’d use on him. The faint soreness lingering between his legs from Rus’s possessiveness morphing from gratifying to an annoyance.

To his confusion, Rus led him to a lavatory instead of the exit and when Edge looked at him in mute question, he only shrugged. “planet’s in occlusion, no one will be able to take off or land for at least six more hours. may as well use up their resources instead of ours. not like they’ll need them.”

True, but it hardly needed said like that. Rus stayed with him, his blatant staring forcing Edge to forgo any modesty as he shed the robe. By now there was little Rus hadn’t seen of him and any mystery Edge still possessed was only in the corners of his mind. His body he’d given Rus willingly, what right did he have to complain if Rus took his due?

BD-7’s presence was slightly more unnerving but then, droids didn’t have the foibles of living creatures when it came to nudity. 

Sonics would never be as satisfying as water, but Edge couldn’t hold back a groan of appreciation as the filth was cleansed from his bones, dust from the planet, blood from the Gamorrean, and Rus’s come, all of it dissolved beneath the sonics. 

He felt better when he was clean, but his knees still tried to buckle as Edge stepped out of the stall. Only Rus catching his arm kept him from falling heavily to the floor. He supposed that was one good reason for Rus to keep such a close watch.

Even if his old clothing wasn’t shredded, it was still filthy, both from crashing the speeder earlier and his captivity. Edge couldn’t help his relief as Rus yanked some items from one of the carrysacks, helping Edge to pull a pair of too-loose trousers over his legs, tying them tightly at the waist to keep them from falling right back down. A tunic followed, large and billowing over his slender bones. At least his boots were his own and he wouldn’t need to stuff the toes to keep them from falling off his feet.

Once Edge was dressed, he reached for the droid waiting impatiently nearby. BD-7 nestled in his arms with a weary-sounding chirp and Edge gave him a gentle pat. At least his hurts would heal, BD-7 would have to wait for repairs and he would need to depend on Rus for it. That at least they had in common, both of them depending on Rus. 

Edge didn’t question what else might be in the bags that Rus scooped back up, slinging the straps over his shoulder even as he helped Edge towards the ramp that led to the dusty ground. 

There were several speeders to choose from and Rus inspected each of them with a mechanic’s jaundiced gaze before deciding. 

It was only when he tried to guide Edge onto the chosen one did he balk. “If I drive one, we’ll be able to take two with us.”

“if you drive one, you’re going to plow right into a rock,” Rus retorted. He was rummaging through the bags once more, pulling out a long scarf in muted crimson. He wrapped it around Edge’s skull deftly, tucking it here and there before plonking down a helmet on top of it. “i didn’t go through all this trouble to end it in death by stupidity. get on.” There wasn’t much possibility of countering that argument and Edge did as he was told, riding pillion with BD-7 nestled into the front of the jacket Rus liberated for him from somewhere. Or someone.

He kept his face buried into Rus’s back, partly protection from the blowing dust, and partly...he didn’t know. His inner equilibrium seemed as unsettled as his outward, tipped off-balance and ready to collapse at the first unkind touch. Part of him was braced for it to come from Rus. A cruel taunt, a rough hand laid upon him, any seemed enough right now to break him apart. 

It didn’t come. The speeder slowed as they came up on their ship and Rus drove it right up the ramp into the hold. He helped Edge climb down from the seat with uncommon gentleness, steadying him while he pulled BD-7 free from his shirt. The little droid hooked on to his shoulder clumsily with its damaged feet, huddling in close to Edge’s vertebrae. 

Rus didn’t seem to notice their combined wariness, securing the speeder while Edge leaned against the hold wall, watching him. 

“there is one bright spot,” Rus said cheerily. He held up one of the bags and from within came a muffled jangle. “between them, they were carrying enough credits for us to get off this rock and have a nice nest egg besides.”

“So you’ve decided where we’re going?” Edge asked, cautiously. 

“yeah.” He didn’t elaborate and Edge didn’t ask. The journey was of little matter to him, anyway. Wherever Rus went, he would follow. “we’re going to have to head over to Gonser to fuel up.”

Edge winced. Gonser was a port town on the opposite side of the planet, existing for little more than refueling and a hot meal for any travelers passing through. Going there was a risk; if those bounty hunters found them, others wouldn’t be far behind, but there was nothing for it. They needed fuel and the small mining community he’d been working at wouldn’t be able to provide nearly enough, no matter how much coin they had. 

“if we time it right,” Rus went on, reaching for Edge to help him limp up to the main deck, “we can get fueled up and get the fuck out right around the time the planet clears the gas giant. might be able to keep anyone from getting too curious about us before we leave.”

Edge nodded. He drew a little away from Rus’s grasp, testing his balance. Not perfect but he should be able to walk on his own two feet. “I can get supplies while you’re refueling.”

Rus went still, the soft orange of his eye lights flaring, “you aren’t going fucking anywhere.”

“It will be faster,” Edge tried. He could manage at least that much for them.

“yeah? how about being reasonable?” Rus shoved him against the wall and Edge would have fallen except for Rus catching hold of the front of his too-loose shirt, hauling him upright. “you’re not steady on your feet, you don’t have a lightsaber, your connection to the force is sketchy as fuck, don’t think i haven’t noticed. we don’t need any supplies, we’ve got enough to keep us afloat for a while. get over it. plus, our faces are plastered all over every holoviewer within a million kliks and our disguise didn’t survive the attack from the hunters.”

Being reasonable. Edge almost laughed, something close to hysteria bubbling up. Reasonable was the last thing any of this had been.

“But you’ll go refuel with your face hanging out,” Edge snapped. His own guilt at losing the breathing apparatus they’d been using as a disguise hung heavy at the back of his mind. Useless, he couldn’t protect himself, couldn’t protect BD-7. Couldn’t protect Rus against the hunters that were coming and he didn’t need to be one with the Force to know that.

“your little droid is giving us a hand with that. while we were otherwise occupied, he was playing scrap hound and found this.” Rus held out his hand. In his bony palm was a small, flat disk, spirals of metal leading to a central opening.

“Is that a disguise matrix emitter?” Edge asked, disbelieving. Highly illegal in the days of the Federation and difficult to acquire. In all his days as a Jedi, he’d only ever seen a picture of one. 

“yeah, and it’s a damn nice one, not even a dent in the case. good find,” Rus reached out to pat BD-7, jerking back when the little droid hissed warningly. His mouth twisted into a rueful grin. “wish they’d had a couple of ‘em. must’ve been from someone’s personal arsenal.” He tucked the emitter back into a pocket and jerked a thumb in the direction of their sleeping quarters. “i can handle the fuel. you. go meditate, get your head facing the right direction. heal, if you can.”

Edge didn’t move, kept his shoulders against the bulkhead. This...this was not what he’d come to expect from Rus, no underlying mocking with the cusp of cruelty dripping from each word when he spoke of Jedi techniques. “Now you want me to meditate. Shouldn’t you be busily trying to coax me to the dark side?”

“nah,” Rus said, carelessly, but Edge saw that little dig land, the not quite hidden flinch. “can’t say the title sith lord suits me much anymore, does it.”

It never did, Edge did not say. 

“go on, it’ll take a couple hours or so for us to hit the port, anyway. bd-7, stay with me,” Rus lifted the bag and shook it, letting out another rattling jangle. “lets see if we can get you back into fighting shape.”

To Edge’s shock, the little droid crawled awkwardly down and went to him, even giving a hopeful, if grudging, chirp. Whatever happened between them while Edge was captured seemed to have dimmed at least some of its animosity.

Rus scooped up the little droid and strode off in the direction of the helm, leaving Edge to stare wordlessly after him. 

He seemed...oddly together, brisk and efficient with dry humor coating his words. More like the Rus he’d always known. Edge wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wasn’t enough of a fool to believe it would last, but a stupid kernal of hope tried to light in his soul, anyway. 

At last, he pushed off the wall and made his way unsteadily to their quarters. He didn’t bother pulling off his boots, nearly falling to his knees to try and stitch the ragged fabric of his composure together enough to meditate. 

It was harder than it had ever been to allow the Force to soothe over him, the touch he’d known since birth finally cradled him, keeping him from ever being alone. It surged within him without judgement, filling him, but then, it always had, hadn’t it. Judgement came not from the Force, but from those who used it, from the Universe itself that chose to give it balance, lightness and dark. 

Edge pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the power inherent in the Force, guiding it to help him heal. Physically, it was still easy enough, bruises fading away, tiny cracks in bones vanishing beneath his coaxing influence. But he was unsteady with more than simply his injuries. Everything that happened kept throwing him off kilter. He’d find his space legs and then gravity would shift again and again, and it had been happening far longer than since Rus’s tantrum earlier or even the moment he joined the Jedi team designated to hunt Rus down. Edge wasn’t sure he’d had his balance since…

Since Rus left the Jedi.

Distantly, he felt the ship lift off, accelerating to an easy cruising speed in the direction of the port.

There was some measure of relief at leaving the mines behind, abandoning that exhausting, filthy work. What he and Rus earned here plus what they’d taken from the bounty hunters would hopefully last them a little while. 

Edge returned his focus to healing, allowing the Force to fill him to the brim, settling him body and soul. There was nothing hovering on the edge of his perception, no unknown ghoul ready to swoop through his bond with the Force to drag him into darkness. His fears melted away beneath that familiar force-touch and soon he felt much better, energized. Only then did he reach out to brush lightly against the closest force signature to him. 

Rus.

The brief flare of shock came from outside, then within, flowing through their nascent bond. Rus’s touch, usually so shattered, the jagged breaks cutting into Edge whenever he opened their bond, was softer, tentative, and if it didn’t echo the love that Edge cautiously offered, neither did it reject it. 

_What was going on, what, why was Rus being like this, what was happening_

The unexpected voice that answered him came from nowhere, everywhere, from inside Rus but not _from_ him, _One Of Us Needs To Keep It Together, And If It Isn’t You, It Has To Be Him. Figure Things Out, Jedi, It_ hurts, _He Can’t Do This For Long._

The gentle pulse of the bond between them did not change and Edge realized with distant shock that Rus hadn’t heard that voice.

He didn’t care about that, it was a mystery for later. For now, their connection was flowing, better than it ever had, and what Edge sent along the bond next was anything but gentle.

Rus’s shock at the pulse of pleasure reverberated back into Edge, followed by the impression of glee and a return pulse. It was like nothing Edge had ever attempted before, only heard of in whispers. To use the Force and their bond to send ghostly ecstasy trailing along nerves, through winding passages of the mind, echoing and growing between them, and their peak was a shared one only within the Force surrounding them.

Edge was panting when he eased out of their bond and his new quivering was only from aftershocks. He took a moment to change into clothes that actually fit him, shrugging into a fresh robe before he headed for the helm.

When he stepped inside, Rus was in the pilot seat and he threw Edge a look that was more amused than anything. “i was working on your droid when you pulled that little stunt, you know.”

“He doesn’t seem any worse for the distraction.” In fact, BD-7 looked as well as he could have possibly hoped. His paint would need redone, but that was something Edge could do. Considering he had no idea where they were heading after this, he might well be grateful for the distraction. 

One of the rucksacks was still at Rus’s feet and he reached down to dig through it, one hand still on the steering column. After a little blind rummaging, what he pulled out was the handle of Edge’s lightsaber, handing it back to him wordlessly. Or more accurately, it was what remained of his lightsaber. The damage made him sigh inwardly. Repairable so long as the crystal wasn’t damaged, but it was far more important than a droid’s paint job and impossible to be done by the time Rus headed out to refuel.

Especially since they were landing now. 

A check of the chronometer showed they had less than an hour before the planet cleared the gravity well of the gas giant that currently prevented orbiting ships from landing. Any of them could hold more bounty hunters, there wasn’t time for negotiating. They’d need to go with Rus’s plan. 

At the gangplank, Rus paused crouched down to shaking a stern finger at BD-7, “you’re in charge while i’m gone, got it? it’s on you to keep him safe, think you can handle it?”

Whatever the little droid burbled made Rus wince, then he laughed, “yeah, okay, that’ll work. i’ll be back soon.”

He was still laughing as he turned on the disguise matrix, his appearance shifting convincingly to slender Quarren, the tentacles that made up its beard twisting and curling with amusement. The species was similar enough to their height that Rus wouldn’t seem absurdly tall and they were known for being relentless bargainers, so it was likely the fuel master wouldn’t try to drive up the price. They were also considered unattractive to most species and Edge couldn’t help wondering if there was a dark joke buried there, considering how Rus usually paid their way in the past.

“Good choice,” Edge said dryly.

“i thought so,” Rus said in a liquid, burbling voice. He turned on his heel, heading down the gangplank. Edge watched him go, then hit the button to close the plank. 

There was nothing to do now but wait.

It was the better part of an hour when Edge heard the gangplank lowering again and the sound sent prickles of warning across his senses. It should have been locked down from the outside, Rus should have needed to use the intercom to ask to be let in. 

His lightsaber was currently useless, spread out in pieces on the table, but Edge wasn’t above using a blaster when necessary. He hushed BD-7 when it blatted a protest, heading in the direction of the ship’s entrance.

Footsteps, only one set, booted feet that weren’t bothering to disguise themselves. 

“Come on out, you bony bag of space wizard, I know you’re here!”

Cheery and loud, a voice he knew somehow, and when Edge peered cautiously around the corner, he could see white, needle-sharp teeth cutting through the dimness, shaped into a grin. That grin widened as its owner caught sight of him, tossing her head to send the long fronds of her slender fins cascading down her back. 

“Well, hey there, Jedi,” she called, “you’re pretty hard to find.”

“Undyne?” he whispered, disbelieving. 

“Even remember my name, good deal.” Her wide grin dimmed into something more serious. “I owe you one and I don’t forget my debts. So when I saw the bounty on you, I signed up, thought maybe I could find you before any of the bucketheads did.”

Edge met Undyne only once on a mission for the Jedi, years before. A smuggler by trade, for a hefty price she’d nonetheless agreed to help him and Rus evacuate a ragtag group of orphans from a planet before the Neimoidians purchasing it could ‘assign’ them parents and bind them into what was little more than legalized slavery. She’d been shot by a droid trooper while running towards the ship with one of the children and only survived due to Edge’s healing skills. 

Back then, she’d sworn to Edge that she owed him a favor that she would someday repay, something he’d quickly forgotten; such promises were common to Jedi and rarely fulfilled. Since last they’d met, she’d lost an eye, a fresh scar showing around the edges of a patch, but that smile of hers was unchanged.

She cocked a hip, hands tucked easily into her pockets. “Okay, now that I’ve found you, laserbrain, what are we dealing with?”

“The empire wants me dead,” Edge admitted. 

Her eye didn’t so much as twitch, but Undyne sucked on her teeth loudly, considering, “Knew that much. When you dive in the soup, you go headfirst, dontcha.”

“he did, but he didn’t hop into the main course alone.”

From behind Undyne came the sound of a lightsaber igniting but brighter yet through the shadows was the burn of sockets brimming with glaring orange, crackling offshoots of lightning surrounding that hellfire glow.

There was no time to think. Edge flung himself forward, stepping bodily between Rus and Undyne in a move borne of pure desperation because he knew if a fight began, it wouldn’t stop until one of them was dead. 

“Don’t,” Edge said, sharply, meeting Rus’s glare with one of his own. With his hood up, he looked every particle the Sith he claimed no longer to be, his skull dull and gray against the black cloth.

Edge braced himself, ready to defend Undyne, a faint, dismal hope rising that perhaps Rus would remember her and at least allow her off the ship. What Edge did not expect was to see a sudden thread of crimson running from Rus’s nasal aperture. It widened quickly, a ribbon instead of a thread. Scarlet trailing over his teeth to drip from his chin, fat droplets welling and pattering to the ground.

His blazing eye lights sputtered, dimmed, then rolled upward, lightsaber extinguishing as it fell from his hand to the ground. Edge lurched unsteadily forward and caught him before he could crack his skull open on the decking, lowering him to the ground as Rus began to convulse. 

“Fuck,” Undyne sounded uncommonly shaken, “Listen, I dunno what’s wrong with your boy, but we can’t hang around here waiting for a doc or your healing mojo, we need to move. Occlusions over, anyone with a tracking fob can find you on this planet.”

“Can you fly this ship?” Edge asked. The wellspring of his calm was currently little more than a muddy puddle, but Edge drew on it as much as he could. He stripped off his robe, tucking it under Rus’s head without sparing a thought to the staining crimson that began soaking it. 

“Does an ewok shit on their boots? Come on, let’s hit space.” Undyne’s feet clunked on the planking as she ran in the direction of the helm. BD-7 hestated, its optics taking in Edge and Rus worriedly, but in the end, it scrambled after her, obviously intending to keep a sharp eye on this new companion. 

That was probably for the best. The convulsions racking Rus stopped as suddenly as they began, leaving him bloodied and unconscious. Edge lifted him into his arms with a grunt, staggering as the ship lifted off and headed towards the outer atmosphere. 

One of them needed to keep it together, that unknown voice had told him and it seemed as if now was Edge’s turn. 

Carrying Rus towards their sleeping quarters, Edge couldn’t help hoping sourly that he could. Just lately it seemed all they ever did was break apart.

* * *

tbc


End file.
